Summer of '96
by respitechristopher
Summary: The summer after the Department of Mysteries battle, Dumbledore leaves Harry at the Burrow. He finds a confidante, a mentor, and perhaps a bit more sitting at the kitchen table. Canon-compliant H/T.
1. Chapter 1

**Setting**: Chapter Five of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince._ Harry's just arrived at the Burrow after convincing Horace Slughorn to return to Hogwarts as a professor, and a nice long chat with Albus in the shed behind the Weasley's house. The two of them walk through the kitchen door where they see Molly Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks in conversation; Tonks with surprisingly drab hair. As they walk in, Tonks excuses herself quickly. That's where Ms Rowling's work leaves off and mine begins:

The Summer of '96

"Tonks, wait," said a rather disoriented Harry. Tonks stopped at the threshold to the Burrow's kitchen, half a smile on her care-worn face as she looked at Harry.

"Tonks, I just – I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what's happened to Sirius. He was your cousin, and," Harry led her out into the Burrow's yard, away from prying ears, especially those of Molly Weasley. He was truly sorry for the part he played in Sirius's death, and needed to express that without anyone telling him he was wrong for doing so.

"and I'm sorry for having led him to the Ministry. He didn't deserve what happened to him there, and I ought to have seen it was a trap. You lot did right away, didn't you?"

"Harry." Tonks put her hand on the young man's arm. "Yes, we did. That's our job, though – we've all been trained. You haven't – yet. I know you're sorry about what happened, and I appreciate that. But I want to let you in on something." And here the auror's wan smile metamorphed quite nicely into a cheeky smirk, as her hair did from mousy brown to a rose-tinted pink. "We were all dead impressed with your performance there, even Alastor. You trained those fighters, and six of you held off a dozen death-eaters for how long? Word is you want to be an auror. Harry, you keep up that group of yours, and you'll have Kingsley begging you to come aboard in two years."

"Mad-Eye was impressed?"

"Eh, so he says. Personally I think he's got a bit of a weakness for a set of emerald green eyes," Tonks finished, and they both had a bit of a chuckle for the first time in awhile. "Come here, Harry," she finished, and held her arms out to him for a hug. The painfully shy boy met her embrace, and lingered in it long enough to put a dab of salve on the wounds inflicted not only by Bellatrix, but also those suffered during his weeks in Surrey. Tonks gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as they broke.

"You send over that beautiful owl of yours if you ever want to talk about what happened, Harry. It's a bad enough thing to see a quick AK snipe down a mate. It's something altogether different to lead those mates into battle, though. And Merlin… at 15 no less. Molly knows where to find me if you need me." And with that and a pop, the young auror with the pink hair vanished before Harry's eyes. Harry stood there for a moment, looking at the spot on the grass where her battle-worn oxblood Dr. Martins had left their imprint. As he looked, he noticed that he was feeling quite odd. There was a tickle in his stomach, not quite queasiness and not altogether unpleasant, and it went along with a certain lightness in his shoulders. This only magnified when he brushed his cheek where the young auror had planted a peck. It was a good feeling, he surmised, and as his natural reaction to good feelings was to avoid them, he figured he ought to make his way upstairs rather quickly.

"Harry, come, sit down, you must be starved. Those muggles don't feed you at all, do they?" was the welcome he received from Molly.

"Actually, Mrs Weasley, I'm a bit knackered from the journey," Harry lied. I'll be down for supper, though. My things are already in Ron's room, right?"

"No dear, you'll be staying in the twins' old room. Seems they've rather taken up residence above that shop of theirs. Quite a head for business on those two; who'd ever have thought it?" Molly mused, and as her voice trailed off following her attention to Harry, the young man climbed the familiar staircase. He lay in bed awhile, trying to imagine what Alastor Moody would look like were he actually impressed with anything. His reveries were short-lived, though, as Ron and Hermione pounced on him, welcoming him home.

That weekend there was a meeting of the Order, hosted at the Burrow. The children were shooed upstairs, but as Fred and George were now members, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were now able to listen in on all of the goings-on via a set of extendable ears strung up to Ginny's room on the first floor.

"Do you think they're really not going to let us out of the Burrow until we leave for school?" Ron asked, incredulously.

"Ron, would you hush already, your mother's saying the same things."

"You'd think the twins would be on our side – oooff!" and Hermione got Ron to hush with a quick elbow to the ribs. They listened in silence.

"I simply don't think it wise to have three now very recognizable students wander about Diagon Alley by themselves," said Albus, getting a bit annoyed that this was even a matter under discussion.

"Are you trying to protect the Death Eaters, Albus? Because that's who I'd be afraid for should those "students" meet up with anymore of, um, _his_ lackeys." The voice was female, snarky, and decidedly young. That wasn't Molly defending them, it was –

"Tonks, we all know those kids can handle a wand. But really – " Bill Weasley was cut off.

"But nothing, Bill. You didn't see them there. I did, and I'll tell you one thing: Harry Potter's exactly the kind of man I'd want with me when the shite goes down, fifteen years old or not. But we've more important things to discuss, and as I'm the only one with a problem with this, I'll retract my objection and volunteer to be their escort myself. Because if there are going to be Death Eaters roaming Diagon Alley, I want to make sure I'm bloody well protected" There was general laughter amongst the Order at this assertion, and business continued.

"A bloody nanny! Leave it to Dumbledore to keep us shut up again! What was that you were saying about mushrooms before we left last term Harry? Harry?"

"What? Oh, right Ron. Mushrooms. I don't think it'll be so bad, though. It's not like it's Mad-Eye or Kingsley. It's Tonks. And she's probably the only one that'd turn her back and let Ginny go off and snog Dean if she wanted," Harry added, laughing. This earned him a swat from Ginny and a glare from Ron.

"Harry, have you gone mad? This is exactly the kind of thing you were raving about last summer."

"Ron's right, Harry. Regardless of who it is, we're still being babysat. And I thought you of all people would be the first to object."

"I dunno, Gin. I guess I don't see it as being babysat. She's more like – "

"An auror, and one who obviously respects your dueling skills. Well, for your sake, Harry, I hope it works." Harry looked back at Hermione nervously.

"Um, what works, Hermione?"

"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Harry Potter. You're trying to get in good with an auror so you'll have someone to put in a good word for you when we graduate."

"Oh, right. Of course. You found me out, Hermione." And Harry was content to let her believe this. The four of them continued to listen as the conversation went from protecting students to Severus Snape's latest report from his dealings with Voldemort. After an hour or so, the meeting adjourned, and the extendable ears were quickly put away. Heavy footsteps were heard climbing the stairs to Ginny's room, followed by a knock on her door.

"Hey guys, it's over now. You can put those ears away."

"Tonks, how did you -- ?"

"Constant vigilance, Ginny. Constant vigilance." And they had a quick laugh as Tonks joined the four teenagers in Ginny's room.

"Look you lot, I promise, I'm not going to be a bother about this. You want to escape your mother's grip for an afternoon, just Floo-call me the night before. If I can't make it, I can't. But I'll be there. And I'll make it a good time. I'll try to steal you out one night to get to a club or something. I'll get tickets for the five of us to get to a muggle pop concert this summer. No Death Eaters at a Chemical Brothers show, what?

"And what'll you tell mum?" Ron asked.

"Just leave the deception work to me, Mr Weasley. When we need strategy, I'll look you up." Tonks responded with a kind smile. Then she got pensive.

"You know, you four would make a wicked auror team."

"How'd you figure, Tonks?" asked Harry.

"Well, from what I saw at the Ministry, you've got it all right here. You have Ron for strategy, Hermione for brains, Ginny for muscle and you for leadership. Actually, in the leadership count, outside of Alastor and Kingsley, I think ol' Green Eyes over here would have us all topped." As she got more pensive, her mood turned darker and her hair turned a deep azure. "You lot listen up and listen good: If things escalate the way they have been, things may very well get bad at Hogwarts. Stick with each other, and no matter what, trust Harry. If you have time to plan, do it. If you have time to think things through, question what he tells you. But I meant what I said down there: if the shite really goes down, I want Harry Potter leading my team. And so do you three."

Ginny placed her arm around Harry's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. Ron and Hermione simply nodded their heads – they had been taking Tonks's advice for five years now. Harry looked horrified. Tonks continued.

"Anyway, think about when you want to escape and let me know. I'm looking forward to spending time with you four. Molly knows how to get a hold of me."

As Tonks made her way back downstairs, Harry looked around at his friends. How could she – an auror – give them such patently bad advice? Advice that would – and had – put them in serious danger. He excused himself quickly and nearly fell over Tonks trying to catch up with her.

"Easy there, Harry. What happened, did Ginny try to kiss you or something?" And all of the talking in the kitchen and sitting room came to a screeching halt. Every pair of eyes was looking at the auror who had suddenly shown every Weasley and most of the Order that her maladroit bearings were matched only by her unfortunate sense of timing.

"Did I say something?" she asked. A moment of nervous laughter was followed by a resumption of conversation. A look at Harry repeated the question.

"Don't mind them, they've been planning my wedding with Ginny since I broke things off with Cho."

"Cho, she was that weepy one, right?" Harry laughed.

"Quite right. That was her. Listen, I need to talk to you. If you manage to get your foot out of your mouth, we might be able to get all the way downstairs. No, not here, outside." Tonks was curious now.

"Alright, Potter. What's so important that you dragged me out here again?"

"Merlin, Tonks. Those are my friends up there. Do you want to get them killed? If the 'shite goes down' as you so eloquently put it, I'm the last person they want to be near. I nearly get us all killed not two months ago, and you give them this rubbish? What is wrong with you?" Harry barely took a breath delivering this missive. He was quite serious, and quite livid.

"Harry, Stop. Breathe a moment. There you go, one deep in, and one deep out. Good. Right. Now, what didn't you understand about what I told you last week? You're good, Potter. Quite good. Quit blaming yourself -- "

"If one more person tells me that I'm going to go spare! _I_ led those students into the ministry. _I_ was the one making the decisions, and _I_ was the one that got Sirius killed by my lack of foresight!" Harry was at a full scream at this point. Tonks simply gave him an expressionless look, waiting for her turn to speak.

"Are you quite finished? You're right on two of those three counts. _You_ led a group of six fourth- and fifth- year Hogwarts students into a battle in which you were outnumbered two-to-one. And you didn't lose a single one of your fighters. Why? Because _you_ were the one making the decisions, and _you_ are bloody good at that. I'm not going to mollycoddle you, Potter, and I'm not going to treat you like a child. But Sweet Godric's Gonads, when are you going to see how capable a leader you are – something anyone with two flashing neurons would pick up on in a minute? Here, Potter. Read this. It was written by a Chinese muggle about a million years ago. Look at page 23 – it's the dog-eared one. It says: 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.' Know yourself, Potter, and do it quickly. Why? Look at page 52, maxim twelve, about 2/3rds of the way down the page. Look at those five dangerous faults. Any of them look familiar? How about number five: 'over-solicitude for his men, which exposes him to worry and trouble.' And it continues:

"These are the five besetting sins of a general,

ruinous to the conduct of war.

"When an army is overthrown and its leader slain,

the cause will surely be found among these five

dangerous faults. Let them be a subject of meditation.

"Meditation. Do you know what that is?" Tonks had long since moved into full-on auror mode.

"Um, no," replied a quickly chastened Harry.

"Shite," muttered Tonks. "I forget sometimes that you're not yet out of Hogwarts. Harry, I'm not yelling at you because you did something wrong, or because you're failing in some way. I'm yelling because I'm frustrated."

"How so?"

"I'm frustrated that you have to grow up like this. That you really don't have time to grow up, and you don't have time to be fifteen. Merlin, look at you: a gorgeous young guy like you should be worrying about how to get that Seventh-Year Hufflepuff with the big knockers into a broom closet, not how to stay alive." Harry suddenly became fascinated with the laces on his boots.

"Just promise me something, Harry."

"What's that, Tonks?"

"You are going to have a good time this summer. And if I hear that you're cooped up in the Burrow, I'm going to personally haul your brooding arse out of that house. Understand?" Tonks said this last bit with a full grin.

"Quite," replied Harry.

"Right. I'll be by on Thursday next to check up on you lot. Do find yourself some trouble to get into, Potter. While you're not studying that book, that is." The young auror winked at Harry and apparated home. Harry walked back inside, oblivious of a very curious Order of the Phoenix.

"Right," said Fred. "Did she or didn't she?"

"Did she or didn't she what?" replied Harry.

"Try to kiss you, prat," was George's response.

"Merlin no, she's 22, what would she want with a kid like me?"

"Not her, Ginny. Harry, you really oughtn't let those muggles starve you like that. It does dreadful things to your brain." Harry heard about half of this and listened to none of it as he walked back upstairs to tell his friends about his conversation with Tonks.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: You like it! You really like it! sniff, sob. Goodness, I can't believe that this story already has more alerts than my H/G post-DH pre-Epilogue epic "There Will be Time." (end shameless plug). More Harry/Tonks fans out there than I thought. Thanks for the kind reviews, etc. Suppose I should get cracking… there's a romance to plot.

Chapter Two:

Harry made it back up to Ginny's room to find it vacant of all besides Ginny herself. The young redhead informed Harry that his other two friends had retired to Ron's room, and were waiting for him there. Harry flung himself down onto what was usually his cot, unnoticed by Ron and Hermione, who were busy discussing the battle and its effect on Ron.

"Ronald Weasley, you cannot possibly look me in the eye and tell me you've had no ill effects from the brain."

"Hermione," Ron started, grabbing her two hands in his, "I have not had any ill effects from the brain"

"Swear it then," she challenged. "Swear it on your magic and I'll believe you."

"Hermione, I – "

"That's enough, Hermione." And an electrical shock could not have made Ron and Hermione jump more quickly to a safe distance from each other.

"Harry, I…"

"No. You were out of line there. Ron's your mate. You either trust a mate or you don't. You don't make him swear on his magic. Merlin, Hermione, you went to battle with him – isn't that enough?"

"I suppose you're right. It's just that I'm worried about him."

"You care about Ron a great deal." Harry didn't ask, because he didn't think that a point of discussion. "So let him be. He'll either come around or he won't. He knows we both – "

"Oi! I'm sitting right here! Care to let me in on this?" Hermione and Harry made quick apologies to Ron, and for the moment, at least, things were sorted. Until Hermione saw the book.

"Ooh, Harry. What's that?" asked the brightest witch of her day.

"Just some muggle book Tonks gave me. It has all sorts of stuff about war and what-not, written a long time ago by some Chinese muggle."

"Wicked," added Ron. "I'm sure there's loads of strategy in there we can use for the next time we have to haul in those wankers."

Hermione was too enthralled by the possibility of a book she hadn't yet read to reprimand Ron for his language. "May I, Harry?" she asked, and Harry handed the book over to her.

"Oh, it's _The Art of War_. Why didn't you say so?" Hermione seemed a bit disappointed.

"Should I know it, then?" asked Harry.

"Probably not, I suppose. But it's a very popular book among muggle businessmen these days. There is loads of strategy in there, some strategic thinking about oneself and ones surroundings. Ron's right, though. It'll be dead useful in the war to be thinking along these lines. Especially you, Harry, as our leader and all."

"Merlin, not you too," exclaimed Harry. Tonks was giving me the same bit about being a leader and all. After that debacle, I can't see how any of you would want me to lead you to Honeydukes, never mind into battle again." Hermione looked downcast.

"Pay up, Hermione," gloated Ron. "That's five sickles you owe me. And none of that funny muggle money, either." Harry looked nonplussed.

"The wager, Harry," explained Hermione, "was on whether you would consider the battle a success. _I_ had some faith in you, but it seemed Ron here was right."

"Like that one would miss a chance for a good brood. Ha! Now, pay up, woman, before I hire the twins as collectors." The three shared a short laugh before a thought came to Hermione.

"Was that why you went barreling after Tonks earlier, Harry? You wanted to tell her you're not a leader?"

"Right. Got a proper talking-to out of the deal, too. That's when she gave me this book. She pointed out a bit where it tells you to know yourself, and then she said something about meditation. What is that, anyway, some kind of exercise?"

"In a way," informed Hermione, "It's an exercise for the mind, and some would say the soul. Muggles use it as a way to calm themselves, and it's used in many, if not most of their religions. Do the aurors use it as part of their training? That's fascinating!"

"I reckon," opined Harry. There was a silence. Then Hermione began to have a look about her; one the boys knew all too well. That look began to blossom, and one could nearly see the blinding rate at which calculations were going on in Hermione's head. As she began to look as if she would burst, Ron, who was sitting behind her, began to mouth 'Three, Two, One…"

"I've got it!" shouted Hermione, as the boys unsuccessfully stifled a laugh. "Right. What could you two mindless prats possibly find so amusing?"

"Nothing, Hermione. It's just that we've seen that look on your face about a hundred times or so. And it's usually followed by the three of us under Harry's invisibility cloak at about one in the morning. Now, what is it?"

"Fine. If you're just going to laugh about it, I'll – "

"Leave her alone, Ron. What's your idea then, Hermione?"

"Well, it'll solve both these problems at once. Harry, you get Tonks to teach us meditation, and that will help Ron sort out whatever happened to him at the Ministry and you to sort out your own experience, Harry. Harry?" Harry had gone deep into thought. Dumbledore had, after all, told him to tell his friends about the prophecy. And there were his remonstrations about safety, and keeping his cloak about him, and Tonks said he should rather be in broomclosets with busty Hufflepuffs, and…

"Harry?" Hermione was now a bit worried.

"Right. Brilliant, Hermione. I'll just… send Hedwig over to see her."

"Something on your mind, mate?"

"Actually, Ron…"

And an hour and a half later, Harry had explained everything that went on in Dumbeldore's office after the battle, including the prophecy and what it could mean for him. Hermione gave him a tight hug. Ron, in a rare display of affection, placed his arm around Harry's shoulder and squeezed him quickly. Then the three decided that it was late enough, and they ought to head to their own rooms and to bed.

The next afternoon saw Harry grappling with the mechanics of writing an owl to an adult – to a woman – while trying to come across as a peer.

'_Dear Miss Tonks'. Merlin, she'd laugh her arse off at that. 'Dear Tonks'. Right. Sure I am. Alright then: 'Hey, Tonks!' Who'm I writing to again? Oh, just put the bloody quill to parchment already, Potter. It's an owl, not an invitation to a ball._ Wrestling match over, he took his own advice.

"Tonks:

Hermione had a thought, and a right good one at that. Last night you were telling me about this meditation, and Hermione explained it to me. She thought it would be good for the three of us to learn how to do that, what with the war on and everything we went through in May. I reckon she's right – as usual. We were wondering, if it's not too much bother, that is, if you'd be willing to teach us some of that. Maybe we can discuss it when you come by on Thursday.

And, before I forget, thanks for the talking to. I've been a right prat since Sirius died, and taking it out on friends like you isn't right. Did you know that Hermione and Ron had a wager on whether I'd be brooding about the battle? Anyway, it'll be good to see you on Thursday. Until then,

All the best,

Harry"

"Here, girl," Harry cooed to Hedwig as she offered her leg to carry the letter. "Bring this to Tonks." Hedwig tilted her head in confusion. "Right. Bring it to _Nymphadora_ Tonks. I forget she has a first name sometimes… Thanks, girl." Harry scratched Hedwig's head lovingly, and the snowy owl was grateful to be getting a fly-about after being cooped up at the Dursley's.

About two hours later, Hedwig flew through the middle of what Ginny, Harry and Ron like to call "Target Practice", or taking shots at Ron with the quaffle while he minded the goals. Harry flew down and met his owl, who had Tonks's response tied to her leg.

"Harry,

Wotcher! Of course I'll help you lot out with meditation. Once you get started, you can do it on your own, anyway, and Merlin knows you'll have Hermione on your arse making sure you practise. I wanted to drop by the Burrow today to talk with you, anyway. I found out some things about your godfather whilst talking to Remus after the meeting, and… Oh, I should just pop over.

-Tonks"

Harry was just finishing the letter when from behind he heard

"Wotcher!"

He whipped around, reaching for his wand before realizing who had just startled him.

"Constant vigilance, Harry. I'd have had you dead to rights by the time you'd gotten that wand out of your sleeve. We do have to get you a proper holster. Right. Well, I've sorted things out with Molly, and I'm going to be taking you over to headquarters. There are some things over there that I promised I'd get for… well, I'll explain later." Tonks turned to Ginny and Ron. "Oi! You lot won't mind if I steal Harry here for a bit. I'll bring him back in one piece – honest!"

"Mind you do that!" came the faint reply from Ginny, thirty meters above them.

"Shall we, then?" asked Tonks. And, without waiting for reply, she grabbed Harry by the hand and led him to the Burrow's Floo, and then into 12 Grimmauld Place.

"I still hate this place," Tonks said, as she and Harry entered the house for the first time since it had become Harry's possession.

"Oi! That's my house you're talking about!" reprimanded Harry with a smile. "I'm the only one allowed to properly hate it!"

"Right. Forgot about that, Harry." A couple of awkward, silent seconds later, Harry turns to the auror.

"OK, Tonks. What's this all about? Things we have to get, conversations with Remus, talks about Sirius. You've been quite cagey with me. What's going on?"

"Got any tea, Harry? This could be awhile."

"Arsed if I know. Bugger! And I sent Kreacher to Hogwarts the day before last."

"Well, just call him, Harry. If he's your house-elf, he'll come."

"Kreacher!" Harry called. And with a pop, a wizened, grumpy house-elf apparated into the first-floor sitting room next to Tonks and Harry.

"Master (Kreacher nearly spit this word out) has need of Kreacher?"

"Um, Kreacher, Tonks and I would like a pot of tea. Could you…"

"Kreacher will bring you and the blood-traitor tea, _Master_." Harry and Tonks took a seat on a couch that had certainly seen better days. When the tea was brought, Kreacher took his leave with a scowling bow and an extra-loud pop. Tonks poured, and Harry swore.

"Damn. Bloody thing forgot the milk and sugar."

"Get used to black tea if you want to be an auror, Potter. Hell, get used to a teabag and an _aguamenti_ spell. Now, on to why we're here. You remember coming into the Burrow last week to find Molly and I deep in conversation? Well, she was comforting me, but not because my cousin died. See, I've been – Merlin this is embarrassing – I've been rather pining after someone the last year or so." Harry looked amused and incredulous.

"Tonks, pining? Never thought I'd hear that one. I'd've thought you the kind of girl who'd just tell a bloke she fancied him rather than that stupid dance Hermione and Ron have had going on for years now."

"And Harry, normally I would. But this bloke was different. He was older – much older, and"

"You're talking about Professor Lupin, aren't you?"

"Right in one, Potter. But call him Remus, he's not been your professor for years."

"So, you told him, and?"

"Well, it took ages. Molly finally convinced me, and after I left the Order meeting, after you and I talked, Remus and I were to meet at the Cauldron for a pint. I laid it all out for him, but apparently there's someone else in his life." Tonks became visibly sad remembering this conversation. Harry placed a hand on her arm by way of comfort.

"Hey, Tonks. 'Salright. I reckon a fit girl like yourself has no problem on a Saturday night if you really want to. Why the tears?" Tonks straightened herself up a bit.

"Think an auror gets many Saturday nights to herself, then?" Harry thought about that for a moment, and then got back to the matter at hand.

"Right. So, you're pining after Lupin. Lupin's got himself another bird. What exactly does this have to do with me, and what in the name of Merlin's pink knickers does it have to do with Siri… Oh, bugger."

"Right again, Potter."

"Merlin's balls! I mean, we all knew about Sirius – anyone who met the man would have. But Remus? And he kept this to himself. How long before Sirius died were they…"

"Since sixth year at Hogwarts."

"And Sirius didn't see fit to tell me, why?"

"Remus. He said it was hard enough having his 'furry little problem' without giving the world one more reason to shun him."

"And us? His friends? He thought we'd shun him? That has to be the stupidest thing I've heard in months."

"Mr Pot, I'd like you to meet Mr Kettle. Fancy that! We're in the house of Black, too." Harry placed his hands over his face in embarrassment.

"That bad?"

"Worse. People actually _have_ been shunned for being gay."

"And Remus didn't mind you telling me?"

"He reckoned you'd be too loyal to Sirius for you to take it badly."

"So, as I see it, Remus has been practically widowed, he's not telling anyone about it, putting up a brave front, and shutting himself from all of his friends when he's not at an Order meeting."

"Pretty much."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Well, Albus of course. But he's never been the tea-and-sympathy type. Of course, I needn't tell you that."

"Quite right. And what about you?" Tonks looked up from the lines she was drawing in the dust on the couch, startled by the question.

"What about me?"

"Well, if I'm not allowed a good brood every once in awhile, and we're going to pull Remus out of his, then you, my dear, are certainly not going to be the only one with wallowing privileges around here." Harry lifted Tonks's chin playfully. "Who's Mrs Weasley been trying to set you up with, anyway? And don't tell me she hasn't, we both know the woman."

"Merlin, Harry. Practically every one of her boys besides you and Ron. Sweet boys, the lot of them; Charlie and I even dated a bit at Hogwarts, but it didn't work out. I don't think that boy will ever settle – he has too much of the dragon-tamer in him."

"I didn't think you'd be the settling down type either, Tonks. What with being – "

"An auror? Harry, if you learn one thing, learn this. Leave the auror at work when you go home. Keep those two parts of your life as separate as you can. Right. Ten years from now I don't want a weepy Ginny at my door – 'Tonks, Harry hasn't come home in three days, and all he's doing is paperwork!'" Tonks began to chuckle at this scene in her head. Harry wasn't so amused.

"First of all, Ginny's hardly the weepy type. And Godric's hairy balls, what is it with you Order lot trying to set us up? Dean's my mate. Leave it alone already." Tonks laughed louder.

"Alright, alright. Just taking the piss out of you, Potter. Have they really been that bad?"

"Ginny's a bit cheesed off by it, too."

"But that's good, though. They'll only really piss her off once."

"Right you are, Tonks. Right you are."

"It's good to see you laugh, Harry. You deserve it." Tonks gave Harry a warm smile, which Harry returned, replacing his hand on her arm.

"It's good to see you laugh too, Tonks." He met her eyes for a brief moment. They were a bright, twinkling brown, and not altogether unpleasant to look at, until she mindlessly licked her lips, opening her mouth slightly. He almost considered –

"Right. What are we here to get then, Tonks?"

"A box of letters Sirius kept in his room. Apparently there's a cubbyhole behind the picture of the muggle girl in the yellow two-piece on the Triumph. You know his parents never found out? Not that they cared, mind. I don't even think they knew where he was after he left the house."

Harry and Tonks ascended the stairs to the topmost landing, chattering all the way about nothing in particular. When they got to Sirius's room, however, the mood darkened considerably. It hadn't been tidied since Sirius had dashed off to the Ministry to rescue Harry, and there were visible signs of a hurried exit everywhere. Harry stood in the doorway for what seemed like an hour, just looking. Bed unmade, wardrobe open with robes half-off their hangers, papers strewn about. And there, on the nightstand, was the one thing Harry had hoped he wouldn't see, but what, if he was honest with himself, he was looking for: the mirror. The other half of the mirror that Sirius undoubtedly used to try and warn Harry about the trap. The tears that had welled up in Harry's eyes now fell freely, and his body began to shake with pain and grief. Reflexively, Tonks grabbed Harry to her, held him as he shook, and patted his head gently as he cried. They remained that way at the threshold for ten solid minutes, Harry wordless in his pain, remorse, guilt, fear, loss… too many emotions for anyone, even The Boy Who Lived. Tonks stroking his head gently, holding him as tight as she thought would bandage the young man's soul. They broke apart gently, and Tonks turned Harry around to face her, so she could gauge the pain left; how much more he had to cry that afternoon. Harry's tear-stained face looked back at her, and she cupped his cheeks with her hands, wiping at his tears with her thumbs. And, without meaning to, she stared deeply into his emerald eyes, seeing the reflection of the brown pair she was sporting that day. Seeing also the courage, the strength, the raw power this wonderful young man possessed. Harry looked into her heart-shaped face, which was battle-worn, yet markedly feminine, showing him a poise that comes with time spent dodging curses, along with an understanding that comes with delivering one too many messages to loved-ones. He then caught her sparkling brown eyes, radiating comfort, salve, forgiveness.

Their first kiss was a chaste affair – the kind of trepidatious kiss shared by teenagers who are too scared to be rebuffed to put terribly much passion into it. But it certainly would not be mistaken for a friendly peck, not with each holding the others' faces in their hands, mouths open, sighing…

"Harry?"

"Oh Merlin. Tonks, I –"

"Harry, don't. It's okay. Let's just get what we came for, and get to Remus's."

"Tonks, really, I'm – "

"Harry Potter. If you do only one thing right between now and the end of your life, it will be to not apologize to me for kissing me. Because I'm pretty sure I kissed you. And either way, I'm a big girl." Had he been listening inside her head he would have heard her add: "And it was a nice kiss."

After retrieving the box of letters, the pair made their way to Remus Lupin's flat, where, as Tonks had warned before they Flooed, they found an unholy mess. It had been a month since Sirius's death, and one would swear that Remus had neither picked up nor cleaned a thing in his three-room flat that entire time. Disregarding this, Harry walked over to Remus and gave him the kind of bone-crushing hug Harry had become accustomed to at the Burrow, but adding the requisite three-pat-ending shared only by men.

"We brought that box back for you, Remus."

"Thank you, Harry. So, Tonks told you of your godfather and my relationship, then."

"Yes she did. And I must say – I'm appalled."

"You're what?" asked Tonks and Remus, nearly simultaneously.

"You heard me. Appalled. Appalled that you would think so little of me that you would think you'd have to hide this from me, and have my own godfather hide such a large part of _his_ life from me as well. Appalled that you refused to share your grief of Sirius with me, when you have twenty years of your life to grieve. And appalled that you would think so little of your friends that you won't let us be there with you as you mourn the loss of the love of your life." If Harry had been joking about being upset with Remus, it was impossible to tell.

"Harry, I meant to tell – "

"No, Remus. You really don't get a say in this. As I see things, there are two ways this goes from here. One, you give me permission to organize a rather large group of stubborn, mostly red-headed Gryffindors to come over here, give your place a once-over, make sure you get some solid food in you, and all around take care of you for a bit as you come to terms with what happened. Two, I do that without your permission. Are we clear?" Remus let go a light chuckle.

"Check and mate my dear Harry. Ron would be proud."

"Right. That's settled then. Why don't you show me some of these pictures you were looking at before we barged in?" Harry's mood brightened considerably as he sat between Remus and Tonks looking at pictures of happier days. Pictures of Sirius and Remus at their graduation, flanked by his mother and father. Pictures of Remus and Snuffles in the park outside of Grimmauld Place shortly after Sirius's escape from Azkaban. Some pictures had bits torn out of them; Remus explained that those were images of Pettigrew that he'd rather not have sully his photo album. As Harry and Tonks left Remus's flat, it was decided that anytime available for 'Operation Moony' (Harry's name for the project) was fine by Remus. Tonks decided that rather than Floo back to the Burrow, she would side-along apparate Harry with her. When they got to the perimeter of the Burrow's apparition wards, Tonks turned to the young man, not yet having let go of his arm.

"That was a very good thing you did for Remus back there, Harry. Sirius would be proud of you. I know I am." Tonks's eyes didn't waver from Harry's one bit as she continued, "And the next time you worry about whether you can lead people into battle, remember how natural it was for you to take charge once we got to Remus's." Tonks took Harry's hands in her own, and looked at the young man before her carefully. 'Fifteen,' she thought, 'not from where I'm standing, and certainly not with what he's been through.' Harry broke the silence.

"You're going to kiss me again, aren't you, Tonks?" Harry asked, with quite the cheeky grin on his face.

"The thought had crossed my mind. Snogging would be a better word for it, though. Would it be alright with you if I did?"

"Brilliant, in fact," replied Harry. "But does this mean…?" Tonks put a finger over his lips to stop the inevitable.

"No, Harry. It means that our lips will touch, perhaps for thirty seconds, perhaps longer. It means our fingers will most likely run through each others' hair, and our tongues will meet somewhere in the middle. And, if you're lucky, it'll mean you're left as weak in the knees afterwards as I was back in London."

"And as for the rest?" Harry asked, not really caring.

"We'll figure that out tomorrow…" And she did thoroughly snog him exactly as promised. And giggled slightly as Harry's legs nearly gave out from under him when she was done with him. She blew him a kiss and apparated away.

The half-mile walk to the Burrow's kitchen door barely registered in Harry's consciousness. One might say it was more of a float than a walk, anyway. As he approached the door, however, he decided that it would be better to leave this feeling alone until he passed through the kitchen than be questioned by Mrs Weasley about the completely gobsmacked look on his face.

"Harry, dear. There you are. Tonks said you'd only be a couple of hours, but it's nearly supper."

"Right. Mrs. Weasley, we need to talk about Remus. He's not in any danger, we just need to talk about him. But first I need to find Ron, do you know where he is?"

"Yes, dear. I believe he's up in his room right now. The girls were getting ready for supper, so I believe he said he'd have a bit of a lie-in before – "

Harry had already made his way to the second floor of the Burrow by the time Molly realized he had gone.

Author's Note: Nope. I don't do cliffhangers. It's a risky story, so your kind (or not so kind) feedback is warmly welcomed. I may be able to update tomorrow, but if not, we hold here until Tuesday, when I get back from a nice long holiday weekend with Mrs respitechristopher. I hope you're all enjoying reading the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. By the way, this is nearly stream-of-consciousness. I've done my best with grammar, syntax and spelling, but if someone wants to beta it for me, by all means send me a PM. My regular beta is already up to his ears in "There Will Be Time," so I don't want to throw another story onto his plate. Until next time,

-Christopher


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** Well, got this one out a bit quicker than I thought I might. Glad to see so many folks are enjoying it. I don't generally respond to reviews (sheer laziness, I know, and bad form as well), but many of the questions I got in the reviews from last chapter are answered in this one. Of course, many aren't. So, as Phlegm -- I mean Fleur -- would say: _Je vous presente:_

* * *

Chapter Three:

"Ron! Merlin's hairy… Ron, get up!"

"I'm up, Harry, and so's the rest of the house. What's got your knickers twisted?"

There were times when the ability to cast magic outside of school would have helped tremendously. Harry was grateful, though, for having grown up in the Dursley household, else he wouldn't have thought to –

"Harry, care to tell me what my wardrobe's doing in front of my door?"

"Can't cast a bloody _muffliato_ outside of school, and I don't fancy being walked in on at the moment. Ron, remember how I asked you to keep a secret yesterday?"

"Course I do, Harry. But I don't remember any ruddy barricades being set up."

"So do you think this might be important?"

"Just what kind of danger are you in, mate?"

"Think you can keep a secret from Hermione?"

"Merlin's balls, Harry – what's so important that you want to keep it from Hermione?"

"I'll probably tell her later, it's just that she got so, so _mental_ when I started with Cho last term, and then wanted to talk about _feelings_ when I ended it."

"This about a bird then, Potter? If this is about –" Harry had had quite enough of what Ron was about to say to let him finish.

"If I need to wear a bloody sign to tell you lot that I'm not interested in dating your sister, I'm not above doing it, you know!"

"No use in putting up a barricade if you're going to yell so the whole house can hear you, mate," Ron replied. Then after a pause to think, Ron began to blanche. Shaking a bit, he asked,

"It's… it's not …?"

"How thick are you?" Harry continued, this time in much more of a hushed tone. "I told you I want to keep this from her – do you really think if I kissed her I'd have to hide it from her?"

"Well, Cho didn't seem too awfully impressed, and… Merlin, Harry. You went off and snogged someone and I don't even know the bird?"

"Tonks." Harry might have had more fun delivering this message to Voldemort himself to look at him.

"You mean?"

"Right. Mood-hair-sporting, Death-Eater-Arse-Kicking, went to Hogwarts with Bill and Charlie, twenty-sodding-two-year-old Tonks."

"What hex did she get you with when you were finished, then? Was it as bad as when I asked Fleur to the Yule Ball?" Ron asked, almost salivating over the possible ways his friend could have humiliated himself.

"Actually, she thinks she kissed me. And then she did it again." Harry could see Ron trying to wrap his mind around what he was telling him.

"Blimey, mate. But she's… I mean of course she's a woman, but -- "

"Caught on to that bit too, have you?" Harry grinned for a bit, taking the piss out of his friend. Then he sobered up a bit.

"What do I do now?"

"You're not seriously asking that question, are you? You see, Harry, when a boy fancies a girl, he – Hey! That book was heavy!"

"And if you weren't such a git I wouldn't have had to throw it at you."

"Right. Deserved that, I suppose. I don't know what you should do – are you two having some kind of affair or something?"

"I don't even know that, mate. She says we'll figure out what it all means tomorrow."

"How did this all start?"

"Well, she collected me to head over to Headquarters to pick up some stuff for Lupin. See, he's in a right -- " Harry was cut off by the dulcet tone of Ginny hollering up the stairs that supper was ready.

"Well, that bit I need to explain to the whole family anyway. You'll see why she took me over there after dinner."

"Right. Well, can't keep mum waiting, can we?" And the boys headed down the several flights of stairs to the warm aroma of the best-kept kitchen in greater Ottery St. Catchpole. Ginny and Hermione, who seemed to be emerging from some form of tête-à-tête of their own, joined them on the way down once they'd reached the first floor.

"Ginny, if I'd wanted to yell up the stairs I could have done so myself." Molly reprimanded. "Now where are Bill and …"

"_Fleur et Guillaume_ did not seem to be much in the mood for supper, mum," Ginny advised, rather derisively and not trying to maintain a straight face.

"Right then. Leave them to it, I suppose," Molly mumbled, and the four teenagers distinctly heard her whisper "_suppose he wanted_ _tarte Française instead_."

"Mum!"

"Oh, honestly, Ginny, I'm his mother, I can say what I please. Now all of you, tuck in while it's warm." Ron, of course, was well ahead of his mother on this account. Harry, however, had only managed to pick at his food after ten minutes of staring at it. His eyes darted about the kitchen nervously, and just as he feared, all three women in the room had picked up on this. Luckily for him, he had another man's troubles to distract them with while he sorted out his own. And Molly wound up feeding him the perfect opening.

"So, Harry. What was so important over at Headquarters that it required a full four hours of an auror's time this afternoon? And what was that cryptic thing you said about Remus before you went flying up to Ronald's room, anyway?"

"Oh, that," Harry mumbled. His Slytherin side had taken a moment or two to kick in before he realized that this was his perfect out. "Oh, _that_," he repeated brightly, once that realization hit him. "That's actually why Tonks had me out all day." Ron nearly bit through his lip so as not to snicker and break his best friend's confidence. "It seems I'm not the only one who's taken Sirius's passing hard."

"Well of course not, Harry. He and Remus were involved for ages," declared Ginny with a satisfied look on her face.

"What, how did you know? Remus said he asked Sirius not to tell anyone, not even me," sputtered Harry in return.

"Well, Potter," and Ginny spat out his surname with disturbingly Malfoy-esque contempt, "perhaps you should have read the _signs_ better. That is how men express their feelings now, isn't it?" The glare coming from Ginny's side of the table was nothing short of withering, and it stopped young Harry dead in his tracks. This was undoubtedly something he would have to fix, but later. After a very awkward few seconds, Molly again broke the silence.

"Ginny, I don't pretend to know what's gone on between you and Harry – "

"Yes mum. Yes you do. You and everyone else is this blasted household has pretended good and bloody well to know what goes on between me and Harry Potter. And as he has made it abundantly clear to everyone within _earshot_ , there isn't a thing in the world going on between us. And the quicker you lot get that through your heads, frankly, the better it will be for all." Molly shook her head quietly, and placed her hand on her forehead as if quelling a headache.

"Harry, do continue, dear."

"Right. Am I the only one here who didn't know about my godfather and Remus?" Harry looked around. Ron and Hermione both had rather shocked looks on their faces. Molly simply stated:

"This is the first I've heard about it, Harry. And I daresay Tonks must have been a bit surprised to get the news, too. How did she take it, dear?" Harry wasn't sure whether to keep his eye on Ron to get him to keep quiet or to keep him quiet, but it certainly was rather firmly trained on his friend when he said

"Well, I didn't bring this up to discuss Tonks, Mrs Weasley. Remus has taken it upon himself to shut himself up in his flat, barely eat, not sleep, and only emerge to put on a good show for Order meetings. He's a right mess, and since he seems unable to take care of himself at present, it might be good of some of us that are his friends to help him out of it." Hermione was quite unsuccessful in subduing a chortle at this, and Harry was quite aware of it's meaning.

"Certainly, it would be dreadfully hypocritical of me to find fault with Remus for keeping his feelings bottled up," Harry continued, "so I'll expect you not to find fault with me mucking about in his business uninvited, Hermione." Ron snickered loudly. Hermione, to her credit, sighed and produced a rather defeated smile as she replied

"Oh, I'd never dream of finding fault with you for _that_, Harry." And the trio shared a quiet laugh together. Plans were generally made for Molly to approach Remus the following day, and for the five of them, plus Bill and Fleur if they wished, to take some time early in the week to see what help they could be. Molly said she would also approach Arthur about talking with Remus about why he kept such important things to himself, advising no one in particular (as she looked pointedly at Hermione), that men generally don't like having their lives poked about in by women, regardless of how close the friendship.

"Only if they feel they _must_." she added to this, "And I suppose Remus isn't going to feel he _must_ anytime soon."

It was Harry and Ron's turn to clean up after supper, and even though the boys were discussing Ginny's earlier outburst, Harry's mood seemed to be rapidly settling.

"Do you suppose Ginny heard what we were talking about, then?"

"Oh, probably just the part I screamed about not wanting to be involved with her. That was plenty, though. Poor form on my part all around."

"How do you reckon?"

"Honestly, Ronald," Harry chided in his best Hermione impression, "does _this_ look familiar?" And Harry held a soapy teaspoon up to Ron's nose. The two boys fell apart in peals of laughter. Hermione, never one to be left out of whatever was the most interesting thing going on, came downstairs to check up on them.

"What could possibly be so amusing about dishes, boys?" she asked. Ron struggled for a moment of control.

"We just figured…" he said between laughs, "that Harry must now rate an entire tablespoon!" And the laughter consumed both lads again; so much so that Hermione was nearly compelled to join in both the laughter and the dishes. Six hands being so much quicker than four, the work was finished and the trio comfortably chatting in what had become Harry's room in a flash.

"Ginny's every right to be upset, Harry. What you said was really out of line."

"Were you with her then, Hermione? How much of that came through?"

"Oh, there was more, then? All we heard was you scream about a having a sign saying that you weren't interested in her. After that it was mostly duck and cover for me. The temper on that one! That the rest of you managed to stay alive baffles me sometimes." This brought further chuckling from the trio.

"Reckon I should talk to her, then?"

"Sure, Potter. Don't forget to take a box to carry your bits back up here with you once she hexes them off!" warned Ron, quite amused at the notion of someone actually approaching an angry Ginny.

"Oh, no great loss there. They'll grow back, won't they?" asked Hermione with a beatific look shot towards both boys. She soon found herself ducking pillows from both George and Fred's beds. Once the three had composed themselves, Hermione questioned Harry further on his day out.

"Well, did you ask her?" asked Hermione in all innocence.

"Ask who, what?" replied Harry, quite nervous that Hermione may have heard more of his and Ron's conversation than she let on earlier, or that some chink in his emotional armor was giving the secrets of that afternoon away.

"Ask Tonks about the meditation, silly. Why, what did you think I was asking about?"

"Oh, right. No, we never did get to that. Sorry, must have slipped my mind."

"What could possibly have been so important then that the whole reason you asked to see her slipped your mind?"

"Um, nothing." And as Harry felt his armor crumbling around him, he looked for the quickest exit he could find. "Right. Guess there's no better time to face the music then. I'll just have that chat with Ginny, I'm sure she's calmed a bit by now." As he was closing the door behind him, he paused when he heard Hermione ask

"What was that all about, Ron? You two seemed deep in thought as you came downstairs for supper."

'_Don't, Ron. Please, don't. Don't say anything, Ron. Please, mate… stay strong'_

"Oh, he was a bit confused about what he heard from Tonks about Remus and Sirius. Messes with a bloke's head, you know. But we sorted things out, he's better now." Then there was a pause. "Is that a new way you're wearing your hair, Hermione? I think it's brilliant."

'_Atta boy, Ron.'_ And Harry made his way downstairs, reminding himself to thank Ron later with a game of chess. Gingerly stepping away from the door, he walked the flight of stairs down to Ginny's room with a bit more confidence. As that confidence built, he rapped on her door politely.

"Ginny? Look, it's Harry. I wanted to apologize about – "

"Sod off, Potter. You really don't want me out there right now," Ginny shouted, menacingly.

"Right. You want to bring that Bat hex of yours then? Bring it. You're not the only one in this house who knows how to throw down a hex. I've been known to be pretty handy with a wand myself, Weasley." And with a primal noise somewhere between a groan and a scream, Ginny opened the door to see a wand-drawn Harry at the ready.

"I'm disarmed, Potter. State your business and leave me be." Harry drew down his wand hand, albeit slowly. He then screwed up his courage to tell the redhead everything that was on his heart at that moment.

"I'm sorry, Ginny." And he waited for a response.

"Yes, we seem to be in agreement on this point. Do you know why you're _apologizing_, however?" Harry rolled his eyes. Ginny simply stood in her doorway, one hand on her hip, mute, looking at him with a mixture of scorn, pity and indifference.

"Potter, if you're going to talk, talk, if not – "

"I'm _apologizing_," he spat, "because whether or not you're over that crush you had on me first- and second-year, it couldn't have be pleasant for you to have your entire family hear me scream at the top of my lungs that I'm not interested in you, which, although it may be true in a strictly romantic sense, has nothing to do with the friendship I had hoped we began to put together whilst we were in the DA."

"If I wanted to hear Hermione's speech I'd've – "

"Hermione? She and Ron were upstairs telling me I was mad for coming down here in the first place! Merlin, woman! A bloke can't even apologize to you without his head being bitten off. Fine. I've said my peace, and now I'll be off like you asked." Harry turned around and started to leave before a rather stunned Ginny called him back.

"Harry, wait. Look, my family's been driving me spare too with this prattle about you and I getting together. I know it's not been easy for you, either. They just don't get it. I like Dean. A lot. They've just got it set up in their minds that they know better. All month it's been like this. I get an owl from Dean and all of a sudden all conversation turns to butter dishes and your first time at King's Cross Station. Besides," she continued with a tentatively cheeky expression on her face, "I wasn't expecting that tablespoon Ron was talking about to be transfigured into a soup ladle." Harry offered her a laugh by way of peace offering.

"I suppose being in a fight for one's life will change things. Truce, then?"

"Of course, Harry. Besides, I was only going to be angry at you for a day or two." Ginny winked at him, and as they came together in a tight, albeit fraternal hug, Harry supposed he was right about things changing. He made it back up to the twins' room in one piece. Ron didn't seem to have fared as well

"Harry. Good to see you're alive, mate. Fancy a bit of Quidditch after dark, then? We'll see if we can get Fleur and Bill to charm the quaffle and the goals to light up. I'll just go see about that, then."

"No, Ron. It's okay. I appreciate what you've done, but this one here," he pointed at Hermione without even looking at her, "needs to back off. So I'll let her in on some of it. Hermione? Here's what I'm going to let you know, for now. It's about a girl. It's not Ginny. Neither she nor I know what to make of much of anything right now, and as the situation isn't quite as simple as it ought to be, I'd rather … Oh, shite." Hermione's face gave her away. "You've got it figured out, don't you?"

"Actually, I'm not sure. You've seen exactly six women for any length of time since leaving Hogwarts, Harry. Assuming for the moment that we'll leave discussion to women born after 1960, that leaves four. I'll go ahead and eliminate myself, you've eliminated Ginny, and Fleur's lack of silencing charm skills, which may leave us all knowing a wee bit more French than we would have cared to, seem to have eliminated her."

When the Boy Who Lived and the leader of Dumbledore's Army looks as though he just found the key to casting the perfect Cruciatus curse, one generally sits up and takes notice. As Harry began to pace the room like a very hungry caged lion, Hermione and Ron simultaneously sprang out of their seats to calm their friend down.

"Harry, she didn't get a word out of me, I swear it, mate!"

"Harry, I didn't. Promise. And I won't say a word to her or anyone else about it. Honestly not. But why would you keep this a secret from me?"

"Guys, I'm not angry at either of you. Ron, I know you didn't rat me out, I heard you try to change the subject as I was heading downstairs. Hermione, I didn't tell you because you got all mental on me last year when I started with Cho. But your arithmancy skills seem to have paid off for you again.

"Honestly, Harry." And Hermione walked over to the nearest wall as she did whenever she went into her favorite lecture on her favorite subject. The wall seemed to serve as a pseudo-chalkboard for her. "'Arith', from the Greek 'arithmos' or 'number'. 'Mancy', from the Greek 'mantis' or 'seer'. It's divination with numbers. It's not a form of maths, it's a form of divination. The only reason it's been a separate class from Trelawney's for so long is that Arabic numerals didn't come into use in Britain until after the school was founded. And as one can't divine much of anything using Roman numerals, Arithmancy became its own discipline in the wizarding world. Were you to attend a Sicilian, Andalusian or North African school however, you'd see that there is no separate class for arithmancy. And I thought you'd been listening during Vector's lessons! Now, why all this fuss over a simple crush on an older woman? Happens all the time, really, nothing to be ashamed about."

The silence in the room was palpable.

"Oh," she said, looking at the worried looks on the boys' faces, "we're not just talking about a crush here, are we? Hold on, then. I want to make sure we're talking about the same person."

"Twenty-two-year-old mood-hair-sporting Death-Eater-arse-kicker ring a bell?" asked Ron. Hermione nodded, gravely.

"Which is why you didn't want to tell me about it. I suppose I did go a bit off kilter when you were dating Cho over the winter, Harry, but this is something different. Much different. How many times?"

"How many times what?" Harry asked. Hermione began to take the voice and form of the kind of concerned elder she thought ought to be consulted at times like these.

"_How many times did she take advantage of you_?" Hermione whispered. Harry was simultaneously floored and amused by her question.

"Merlin, but you're bound and determined to rescue someone from something this summer, aren't you? No one took advantage of anyone, Hermione. The first time it happened, neither of us is sure who kissed who, but there we were. The second time, she most certainly started it, but she asked bloody permission. Now, mental is mental, whether you're quiet and hushed or squealing like a firstie." Hermione was chastened, but resolute.

"Right. So you and this auror are having this wild February/May affair, is that what you expect me to believe?"

"No," and Harry had to remember to keep his voice down. "I expect you to believe that Tonks and I shared a kiss. And then later on in the afternoon she snogged me senseless. I expect you to believe that I enjoyed it, she seemed to enjoy it, and neither of us were much thinking or caring of consequences or meanings at the time. I also expect you to believe that I'm a bit nervous, because she said we'd talk tomorrow about what this all means, and I'm quite expecting her to wake up and say 'what the hell was I thinking?'. And I expect you to believe that the only reason I'm asking you two to stay quiet is that I'm still 55 _entire weeks_ under the age of majority, and she's a bit above it. Got that all, or do I have to diagram it for you?" Both Ron and Hermione looked as if they'd just seen Voldemort volunteering at a muggle homeless shelter.

"Blimey." Ron spoke up after a few moments, a mixture of awe and wonder in his voice. "Snogged you senseless, did she? How was it, then?" Harry saw Hermione's eyes roll, and he wanted to stop his friend from putting her foot straight into her mouth with some comment about 'boys'. She still hadn't gotten it. He resolved to learn to be quicker on the draw later.

"Tsk! Honestly." And then she dropped her voice an octave, putting on a distinctly yobbish tone. "'Pulled a righ' fit bird for yourself, have you, Pot'er?' That's the kind of insightful help and advice you were looking for?"

Harry and Ron both stifled a chuckle. Ron, because he'd never heard sounds like that come from Hermione before, and Harry because he'd finally gotten the counsel he needed.

"Actually, Hermione, yes. Yes, that's precisely what I needed to hear. Know what? She _is_ a right fit bird if I do say so. And I had a good time. And I hope like hell she and I can continue to have a good time." Then with a satisfied 'Ha!', Ron flung a pillow at the back of Hermione's head, and all hopes at a civilized discussion were off. By the time they packed it in for the night, though, it was agreed to that they would be the only ones to know of what had taken place between Tonks and Harry, and that they were pulling for Harry, but would be there for him if his hopes were dashed.

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**More Author's Note:** Sorry for the lecture on Arithmancy, folks, but it's one of my pet-peeves. As for the rest of the story: still like it? Think I'm nuts? Think I've hidden an H/G in here and you want to string me up for it? Let me know. Until next time, blessings from down the shore.

-Christopher


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** Dreadfully sorry about the delay. For some reason or other, this has been the toughest chapter to write so far. I'm guessing that's because it's rather a transitional chapter, but still. Hopefully, they'll go a wee bit more smoothly from here on. But please, enjoy:

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

"Wotcher, Molly!" Tonks rapped on the Burrow's kitchen door the next morning. Having seen the Weasley matriarch at the table with a cup of tea and a current Witch Weekly, she decided to chat her up for a bit and see if Harry had made any inroads on Operation Moony.

"Oh, hello there, Tonks. Fancy seeing you around this morning. Oh dear; you mustn't be too terribly pleased with me having given you that dreadful advice on Remus now, what?"

"Merlin, no, Molly. Think nothing of it – honestly. I'll assume then that Harry's filled you in on Remus's current state?"

"Quite. The poor dear, brooding about in that flat of his, not telling a soul what he's been going through. Tsk. At least our Harry's found a good sense of irony in the whole thing."

"Don't get your meaning there, Molly."

"Well, The Boy who Broods seems to understand that what Remus is doing sounds eerily familiar to those of us who love him. I suppose we have your sage counsel to thank for that, Tonks?" Tonks straightened herself up a bit, putting on a mischievous grin.

"I suppose I may have mentioned something like that to the lad. By the way, he, Ron and Hermione had sent me an owl about something, which got completely forgotten in all this worry over Remus. Are they around?"

"They seem to have taken over the twins' room, dear. Second floor, right above Bill and Fleur's."

"Right. Thanks so much, Molly." And Tonks headed up the two flights of stairs still not entirely sure what she was going to say to Harry.

Harry couldn't read the expression on Tonks's face as she knocked and then entered the twins' room. It was the same jovial demeanor, the same bubblegum pink hair she had had the last couple of times they had seen each other.

"Wotcher Harry! Ron, H'mione!"

Hey there, Tonks. Ron, er, weren't we just going outside so you could show me that Quidditch thing you were talking about earlier, that fainting something or other?" Hermione answered.

"Hey, what's that now? The Wronski Feint? Right. Telling me all month you were over Krum, and now you want me to show you his signature move? I think I'd rather stay right here and talk with Tonks and Harry thank you very much!"

"Ron, I think what your lass is asking is that you give Harry and I a bit of time, if you don't mind." Harry chuckled, secretly wondering what module of Auror training provided the student with a complete lack of inhibition upon completion. Hermione mouthed a 'Thank you' to Tonks while simultaneously pushing Ron out the door with her. It was two very awkward minutes later that one of the two remaining spoke up.

"Tomorrow already, is it?" started Harry, nervous that disappointment was imminent. "So, come to any decisions, then?"

"Come to any decisions? All by myself? No, Potter, you don't get off that easy. If you want to sit at the grownups table, you're going to have to earn your seat, lad." Harry was noticeably chastened at his would-be paramour calling him 'lad'. Good Gryffindor that he was, though, he bluffed his way through giving his version of an 'answer'.

"I, er, actually hadn't thought it would be much of a question on my part. Really then, I suppose I'd have to be mad not to want to… er, be with you."

"Be with me how?"

"Well, I hadn't thought of definitions per se, I was more interested in spending some more time together, see where this whole thing gets us." Harry was grasping at straws, trying to sound as 'mature' as he could.

"Did you get that line off of the telly?"

"Movie, actually. Did it work?" Tonks smiled broadly, and then moved in to give Harry a full kiss on the mouth. Pausing for a moment to watch the young man light up like a Christmas tree, she smiled and replied,

"Hmm. You tell me. Did it work?"

"Brilliantly," was Harry's rather spacey reply. After a moment he got his wits about him.

"We probably oughtn't do that here in the Burrow."

"Probably not, but Hermione's got a good head on her shoulders, she'll keep Molly clear."

"And Ginny?"

"Oh, do tell me you're not seriously worried about what she would say. She's a big girl, Harry, she wouldn't go telling the world your dirty laundry. Besides, Hermione knows, so that's about as good as telling Ginny yourself."

"Hermione wouldn't do that, I trust her."

"Trust a teenaged girl around some juicy gossip like this, do you?"

"Why, who'd _you_ tell, Tonks?" Tonks looked a bit nervous, and possibly even a bit peeved that her bluff was called.

"Oh, mum and I shared a cup of tea over you. Told me some rubbish about 'listening to my heart' before getting to the good stuff."

"And what good stuff is that?" Now it was Harry's turn to be a bit nervous, considering as he was his girl getting love advice from Narcissa Malfoy's sister. The mischievous grin spreading across said girl's face did nothing to help matters, mind.

"That you're only three weeks away from being over the age of consent," Tonks answered, thoroughly enjoying the way she could make Harry blush. The back-and-forth needling banter and the trading dares continued for the next little bit. The pair shared stories of telling others, laughing at Hermione's assertion that Tonks had 'taken advantage' of Harry, as well as the look on the other female in Tonks's auror class after she had seen Harry's picture. She, according to Tonks, had been lukewarm at best about the idea of her classmate dating a teenager, until she saw

"what a hottie you are. Merlin, you should have seen her jaw drop, and I think your picture actually winked at her, Potter."

"You have a picture of me, Tonks?" The stakes had been raised significantly, and while Harry had been fine trading quips, Tonks's assertion that she and some other young woman both found him attractive was making him ridiculously uncomfortable.

"Don't need one, sweets. She had a back issue of _Witch Weekly_ in her locker, so I was bound to find a picture of our favorite Boy Who Lived. I think they have an entire section devoted to you."

"Tell me you don't read that tripe."

"Never. Why Shelly does, I'll never know. Must be horrid for you, though, having a cottage industry devoted to fabricating bits of your life's story."

"Eh, you get used to it. Although, if we keep this up for any length of time, you won't have to ask that question. Yet another brilliant consequence of 'spending time', or whatever it is we're doing with Harry 'Boy Who Lived' Potter. Come to think of it, you've never answered my question from when you first walked in. I've gathered that you're not running away screaming at the thought of, whatever, but you haven't told me what you were hoping for. No fair having me be the only grownup at the table now."

"Well then, I suppose I need to come clean."

"How's that?"

"I didn't know what I wanted out of this either. It's really not that cut and dried, sweets. Unfortunately, you don't simply wake up one day to find someone's handed you a 'how to compartmentalize and dissect your feelings towards another. Which is why my mothers trite platitudes were, in fact, the best advice I received on the subject."

"All that struggling and you didn't know yourself?"

"True, Harry, but it was amusing to see you flop about looking for an answer like that. Bloody good one you came up with, at that. Did you have that much work to do with that weepy Ravenclaw I've been told about?"

"Not at all. That was the only bright spot in that relationship. It's so much easier at school, Tonks. Dating is really limited to the occasional Hogsmeade weekend, other than that, it's getting to the coziest broomcloset before anyone else gets there. I hear that abandoned classrooms work nicely, too."

"Don't really figure you and Little Miss Handkerchief hitting up Flitwick's classroom for a midnight tryst, Potter."

"Merlin no. With her?" Harry shook his head wondering how he'd ever gotten himself into that relationship. "No, with her the physical displays of affection were limited to handholding, the occasional peck on the lips, copious amounts of staring and blushing on both our parts, and two very wet snogs, each one punctuated by her uncontrollable sobbing. Not exactly part of the broomcloset brigade."

"Don't need broomclosets when you have your own flat," Tonks muttered. Harry looked up at this with a smile as subtle as if Crookshanks came in to the room with canary feathers in his mouth. Tonks flashed him a wink and continued.

"We're going to have a good time together this summer; get you out of this prison. But you let me worry about how. We'll just have to come up with excuses to get you out of here. Somehow I don't think Molly's going to be leaving the house without you four in tow anytime soon. Merlin though. You're sixteen years old, it's time you had some fun, Potter." She stopped, looked at Harry thoughtfully, and asked

"So, she punctuated her kisses with sobbing, then? Prefer your kisses a bit drier, do you?" Harry thought a moment. The answer was, of course, clear as day, but he needed the perfect way to express it.

"Hmm. Forgot, actually. May need to do a bit more research." Harry thought Tonks's sly grin would be the death of him. And as she cast a Disillusionment charm on the room and ran a nimble finger along his jawline while dragging him onto Fred's bed, he couldn't have imagined a better way to go.

Five minutes and two increasingly breathless young people later, Hermione and Ron carefully walked back into the room. Noticing both the air markedly perfumed with pheromone and the distinctive shimmer of a disillusionment charm, Hermione grabbed Tonks's wand off of the nightstand, pointed it at the shimmer, pronounced

"_Finite Incantatem"_

and cleared her throat to announce her and Ron's presence. Harry, like any good gentleman in such a position, assisted Tonks in re-arranging, re-fastening, and buttoning up any piece of clothing that may have come undone in the previous few minutes.

"Harry, Tonks. Everything sorted out, then?" Hermione asked. Ron was still trying in vain to wrap his imagination around what he had just witnessed.

"I suppose I could ask you and Ron the same question, Hermione," quipped Harry in response, "but that would be pointless, wouldn't it?" Tonks gave Harry a playful smack on the arm and sat up cross-legged on the bed, Harry's arms draped around her. Hermione and Ron shared a nervous chuckle and both looked at their shoes, blushing madly. They sat like that for a few minutes looking at each other before the uncomfortableness simply overwhelmed Hermione.

"You know, you two are going to screw up one day, Mrs Weasley's going to walk in, and Merlin help you both, you know that, right?" Harry and Tonks looked at each other, frowned, nodded, and moved away from each other on the bed.

"Well, that's a start, but after one of your snogging bits good luck trying to act like you're not a couple. Oh, don't give me that look, Harry, I can see with my own eyes. Right. Well, I'm sure you're feeling much more Zen, the both of you, but weren't we going to talk meditation? I think it would help all of us, Ginny included. There's a war on after all, and if we're going to be taking on full-grown wizards and witches like your dear old auntie Bella, we're going to need to have our magical and psychological facilities at their top condition. And yes, Ronald, this includes Ginny. Godric, man, she acquitted herself quite well at the ministry, wouldn't you say, Tonks?"

"Absolutely. Besides, it'd be good to get to know the lass better. If you want to extend an invitation to Neville and Luna, that would probably be wise, too. Adding courage and imagination to the brains, strategy, brawn and leadership we discussed the other day, and you've got the makings of your own inner circle here, Harry."

"Well yes, I just thought we'd be able to…"

"Right. I'm sure you did, but all play and no work makes Harry a piss-poor Voldy slayer now, doesn't it? I'll talk with Molly about when I can bust you guys out of here, meanwhile, Hermione's right, sweets, we shouldn't see too much of each other whilst we're around Order types. 'Cept for Remus – he knows and he suspected as much while we were over there." Harry sunk his head into his hands as Tonks continued.

"Ron, how should I go about approaching your mother here? What's the best thing to tell her to make sure she goes along with our plan for the summer?"

"Oh, simply stress how good this will be for us, make sure she understands that you consider us children and not peers…"

"So you want me to lie to Molly?"

"Well of course. She's my mum – if she thought we were going to have any fun from this whatsoever, she'd be immediately suspicious. Who knows, might lead to dancing…"

"Now you're kidding."

"Damned right I am. Mum's cool and all, but a little overprotective. She didn't see us at the ministry; just saw us in the Hospital wing afterwards. And Ginny and I being her youngest, she wants to keep our childhood going on as long as possible. Not realizing, of course, that it ended rather abruptly last month."

"And so it did. I'll be off now, sweets. Do let Ginny know that she's invited, as well as Neville and Luna. If all goes well with Molly downstairs, make sure you let her push you into it. Don't agree to it too readily, it would be dreadfully out of character for all of you, save Hermione. Hermione, you might want to 'help' Molly push the boys into taking meditation lessons from me, right?"

"Of course."

"Well then, it's settled. You lot have fun, and Molly will tell you what time you need to be there. Till then!" And Tonks stood up, gave Harry a firm kiss and bid the other two goodbye.

"I think this will work out smashingly," said Ron after Tonks had left for her conversation with Molly. "What do you think, sweets?"

"Yes, schnookums," continued Hermione with a laugh, "what _do_ you think?"

"Right. Both of you. So. Not. Helping." Of course, with all of the rooms pillows having been re-arranged onto Fred's bed during their last such encounter, Ron and Hermione had the numbers, but Harry had the ammunition. As the pair was gasping out "uncle!" in-between laughter, Ginny knocked on the door.

"Right. I see the maturity level in here has simply skyrocketed since the battle. Tonks said you guys wanted to see me about something?"

Ginny was quite pleased that she would be spending time with her erstwhile comrades-in-arms, but Harry had thought better of letting anyone outside of Ron and Hermione know about what was or wasn't going on between himself and the young auror. To talk to the young man, though, one would immediately sense that something was quite different about him. There was a confidence burgeoning there, as well as a sense of determination and self-direction that had been noticeably lacking in his life. Harry wasn't aware of this, however. He just noticed that he was smiling quite a bit more than he ever had.

* * *

**More author's note:** Thank you so much to all of you who've taken time to review. As I've written to some of you (and the lack of replies isn't a slight, just supreme laziness on my part), those reviews really do help these chapters get kicked out more quickly. This was a difficult chapter to write, and it's not my favorite to date, so your kind direction will be especially appreciated here. Thanks again for reading!

-Christopher


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

The ruse worked well, so well in fact that Molly confided in Hermione her surprise that Ron and Harry were so dead against something that would, after all, see them in a flat in muggle London thrice weekly, rather than being stuck in the house 'on my apron strings'. Hermione, with a forced half-hearted giggle chalked this up to 'well, you know how boys are about anything that doesn't involve a _reducto_ spell, quaffles, or creatures that spit fire,' and the Weasley matriarch seemed placated. After securing Molly's blessing on the plan, the next step was to tell Ginny about Harry and Tonks, knowing as Ron and Hermione did that there was no way Ginny wouldn't see the connection the auror and the Boy Who Lived had made, because 'Merlin Harry, if Ron can see it, you must be wearing a t-shirt with "Pink-haired aurors make me melt" written across the chest'. Ginny was very gracious about the news, unsurprising to anyone who had actually talked to the girl over the summer. She was, as claimed, 'completely and truly over Harry Potter', and quite happy that the former target of her affections had found himself such a wonderfully fun girl like Tonks.

Operation Moony had been a complete success. Once his flat was rendered hospitable again, Remus was informed in no uncertain terms that his presence was expected each Sunday for dinner a two-thirty sharp, barring a full moon, of course, and that Tonks would see that he got out on the town at least weekly. In return, Molly would keep all mention of his relationship with Sirius limited to family, and swearing on an imaginary frilly pink jumper belonging to Merlin himself, she promised never to play matchmaker for him as long as she lived.

The trio, with Ginny in tow, began their meditation practice the following Wednesday at Tonks's place in what could only be called a student neighborhood of muggle London, situated as it was nearly equidistant from both City University and London Business School. Tonks said she didn't care for the place much, and spends most of her time at her folks' place.

"But it's dead useful after a night out on the town, and the Ministry does pay for it. With the Lord Mayor being one of Fudges biggest supporters, we got roped in to security for both Chelsea and Arsenal tilts, and for reasons unknown to any of us, the Lord High Muckitymuck thought it would be good if we lived in town for a more rapid response. Guess Fudge didn't bother to tell him about apparition."

Meditation lessons went quite smoothly, at least after Ron and Ginny got over their giggle fits every time Tonks would mention 'diaphragmatic breathing'. Rather than a spoken or mentally intoned mantra, Tonks had the teenagers work with visual mantras of her choosing, visualization being 'ever so important in getting power to spells'. Hermione's mantra was stroking Crookshanks, feeling the cat's fur and his purring under her fingers. Ron's was a chessboard, with the pieces laid out in front of him in their starting positions, and he would visualize the first forty moves of a match. Ginny would fly with a quaffle in her hand. Tonks had started her out with a fanning charm blowing her hair back, but after a couple of weeks she no longer needed this tactile prompt. Harry's mantra was the feel of spells leaving his wand, and he would visualize himself casting the disarming spell in the Room of Requirement during a DA lesson.

Tonks had convinced Molly to let the four stay late at her place a bit longer on Friday evenings as a reward for their hard work as part of the original bargain. Most often the five would get takeaway on Mondays and Wednesdays (expensed to the auror corps, thank you very much), but on Fridays, Tonks liked to put out a spread, not intimidated in the least by Ron and Ginny's history of family meals that couldn't be beat. The first Friday it was Tapas, and Tonks enlisted Harry's help with much of the prep work, giving the pair a well-deserved moment of blissful solitude. The second Friday brought roll-your-own sushi, and as Tonks's fishmonger had taken care of the slicing and dicing, there was no prep work necessary. Even during these unexpected Friday nights together, though, Tonks was needed in her role as hostess to Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and really didn't have much time to sneak into dark corners with Harry.

"All the romance of your typical schoolweek at Hogwarts, but without any of those pesky broomclosets or Hogsmeade weekends" was how Harry described his current 'relationship' with the young auror, and he wasn't pleased in the slightest. He decided to send his girl an owl to explain how he was feeling: insecure, neglected, and a bit needy, if he was honest with himself. Alas, men of that age so rarely are.

Hi Tonks,

It's been a little difficult these past couple of weeks to find any time together

You would tell me if you were trying to avoid me, right?

So, when are we going to be able to get together?

It'd be nice if we

"Sod it all" was the young man's final answer. "She'll either come around or she won't."

And so it was, sometime around four pm on the Sunday before Harry's 16th birthday, that he poked his head into the floo and paid a call to the Tonks residence. What he found, or what he thought he found in the other side of the fire nearly shook him to his core.

"Yes, young man, she is. Whom may I say is calling?"

To say Harry jumped back would allow the boy a bit more grace than he was due. Andromeda Tonks, née Black – the sister and spitting image of Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black – had answered the floo, and for a moment Harry had imagined the absolute worst. Andromeda was used to this, however, and put him at ease.

"Oh, you poor dear. I suppose one can change ones name, but without a stout glamour charm, I shall always look rather like my poor, crazed sister Bella. You must be the Potter boy that Nymphadora has told us so much about. Please, leave Molly a note and come on through. I was just about to put on a kettle for Ted and I, but I'll have Nymphadora come down at once."

"Er, yes, of course. Sorry about that, Mrs Tonks. I'll be right over."

Harry did as he was told, and set foot for the first time in the Tonks's home. He was invited into the living room, where Andromeda and her husband Ted had just finished listening to a Sunday afternoon program on the wireless, and were contemplating supper. He introduced himself formally to Tonks's parents, in that awkward way celebrities do when they know full well that the person to whom they are introducing themselves know – or think they know – more about them than they do. Pleasant, wholly unobtrusive small talk was made concerning Harry's muggle upbringing and whether or not Harry thought that Coventry City would survive the upcoming season in the Premiership. Knowing nothing whatsoever about football, but hearing Mr Tonks's West Midlands dialect, Harry surmised that it would be best for all concerned if he was of the opinion that City would be fighting for a spot in European competition rather than wind up in the throws of a battle against relegation. A few awkward moments later, the object of Harry's affection appeared to rescue him from his moderately successful bluff through the beautiful game. Tonks greeted Harry with a less-than chaste kiss on the lips and a mischievous grin.

"How wonderful of you to drop by, Harry. Hope dad didn't bore you terribly with his football talk. City have just lost a bright young midfielder to _Los Angeles_ of all places, and he's rather thought it an omen ever since. It's all right though, Harry. I know nothing of football either. He just wants someone to sit there and nod whilst he talks. Now, I'm sure you didn't come here to talk footie." Ted and Andromeda had caught their cue at the kiss and had since made their way to their pot of tea in the kitchen.

"No, no I didn't. Tonks, what's going on? I haven't been able to get four words alone with you in two weeks."

"Well, there was that unfortunate incident with the empanada filling as you had me… Merlin, Harry, I'm missed the hell out of you. We've been quite unlucky with our timing; you're damned near under house arrest over at the Weasleys', and Hermione and Ron haven't gotten their heads out of their arses to be swapping spit themselves. And with Ginny sitting there, looking every one of her fourteen years – Merlin's lace knickers, don't let her hear I said that, Potter – I can't very well follow through on all those activities I have planned for the two of us. But here you come on a Sunday afternoon, having defied death, my parents _and_ Molly Weasley to come see me, and all I've done is nothing. We'll make this up, Harry."

"Tonks, I've been wanting to see you for forever now. This really isn't a big deal, coming over here tonight."

"Wow. He duels evil dark wizards, leads on the battlefield, and manages to be as humble as he is gorgeous? Ladies, this one is mine," Tonks giggled. Harry's Adam's apple and his heart met at the top of his breastbone upon hearing these words from Tonks. And all of a sudden, the cheeky bravado with which he carried himself in meditation lessons had melted back into the boyish shyness. That boyish shyness was forgotten, however, when Tonks grabbed Harry by what would have been his lapels had he been wearing a jacket and kissed him soundly. Several weeks of pent-up frustration were coursing through the young man, and the ferocity with which he reciprocated Tonks's advances was a bit unnerving, even to an experienced auror. Unnerving, but not altogether unpleasant, apparently, as she announced to her parents that the two of them would be heading over to Tonks's London flat.

In between attempts at melding their faces into one amorphous blob of snog, Tonks and Harry discussed their plight. It was decided that there wasn't too terribly much they could do without drawing suspicion from other Order members (their own personal codename for Molly), but that Tonks would certainly think of something, and quickly. Having a Marauder as a co-conspirator was going to be helpful, they decided, and Tonks said she would contact Remus for assistance with operation Free Harry. As they were discussing this, Tonks was quite adamant (as adamant as one can be between giggles, that is) that this operation had nothing to do with 'Operation Free Tonks from her Brassiere,' which Harry was performing at that moment, pleasant as that was. Unfortunately for them, however, just as Tonks was assisting Harry with the finer points of front versus back clasp strategies, a rather panicked message from the floo by Andromeda heralded Molly's return to the Burrow. Never before had so many clothes been replaced so badly so quickly, but the pair did manage to straighten themselves out before tumbling into the Tonks's sitting room, and a quick kiss sent Harry back to the Burrow.

Remus had recovered from the full moon on the 30th in time for Harry's birthday the following day. How his party had turned into an impromptu Order meeting Harry wasn't sure, but still not quite used to positive familial attention being lavished on him, he didn't think too terribly much of it. Rather, he was glad that the adults in the room were speaking so freely, even if what they had to say about muggle baiting, Dark Mark sightings and Dementor attacks was quite depressing. After the last tangible present was given (Ginny's gift of a letter opener that reminded both of them very much of Gryffindor's sword), Remus and Tonks cornered Harry as Moody (with the help of quite a bit of Old Ogden's finest) began to wax poetic about vigilance.

"Oi, Potter. We've got it," said Tonks in a stage whisper. "Your final birthday present and Operation Free Harry all in one."

"Brilliant, Tonks!" replied Harry in the same whisper.

"Um, do you guys mind, we're rather…"

"It's okay, Tonks, they're all up to date on the, ahem, mission." Harry's face blossomed into a smirk. A raised eyebrow from his sweetheart cast Harry's eyes downward and painted his face with a profound blush. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Remus, however, were quite happy to be left out of the subtext. An awkward moment or two later, and Remus continued.

"Harry, we're – that is, Tonks and I – are going to be taking you on our weekly 'night out' on Friday. There's this club in Muggle London, near Tonks's, that we go to. A bit of confunding the doorman and a glamour charm or two, and you're in. Happy Birthday, Harry. Prongs and Padfoot would be so proud, you and I putting one past the Order like this. How does this sound?"

The dumb smile on Harry's face told all there was to tell.

"Right then," continued Remus. "We got you an outfit for the occasion. Let me unshrink it… there we are."

"Charmed to fit snugly in all the right places, mind," offered Tonks with a chuckle. "Oh, Harry. It's going to be good to see you in something that's not made for someone twice your size."

"Not to mention styled this decade," interrupted Remus. We'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night, apparate over to Tonks's, get you ready, go have a bite, and then we'll get going."

"Wait. Not that I don't enjoy your company, Remus, but you're going, too?"

"Look, mate, when we get to the club you'll be glad I am. I've known the owner there for years."

"Right. Well, I suppose getting out with a chaperone is better than not getting out at all."

"Harry. Remember, I'm going by Molly's mandate. Now, if you'd rather have a different, ahem, chaperone than this young lady here, you just let me know. Perhaps Moody is available. I hear he's a wonderful dancer. Right then, seven tomorrow?"

"Seven tomorrow it is," replied Harry with a bigger grin than anyone could remember seeing underneath a lightning bolt scar.

**Author's Note: **Well, when you write your fanfiction, you can write _your_ favorite soccer player into the story. Extra brownie points if you know who he is. Detention is cleaning out Mrs Norris's litterbox for a month if you tell me it's David Beckham. You've been forewarned!

I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. My first one not eligible for the Reviews Lounge archives! Next time: Harry and Tonks's big date. Reviews are good karma, btw.

-Christopher


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **You wanted more Tonksy goodness? You got it. And if my story gets bumped up to an "M" as a result of this chapter, I'll go back and swap out some innuendo for some action. Your reviews are wonderful – thank you! Speaking of reviews, I have tried to clean up the grammar in this chapter, as well as signpost the dialogue better. Sorry to those who were distracted before. And special kudos to Fibinaci for figuring out that the mystery soccer star was none other than the LA Galaxy's Cobi Jones. No mysteries in this chapter, but do enjoy:

Chapter Six:

The package that Remus and Tonks left with Harry contained Muggle clothes, and some of the nicest he had ever seen. There was a lightweight charcoal suit, a deep red dress shirt with French cuffs (complete with gold cufflinks), and a pair of the shiniest black oxfords he had ever seen. New socks and shorts that didn't require a belt completed things for Harry, and he was quite taken at their thoughtfulness. Ron on the other hand – not so much.

"Honestly, Harry. A good t-shirt and a pair of jeans would have done you just fine. You're going out to a club, mate, not to meet her folks." Harry pulled the collar of the shirt over top of the blazer's lapels as he scrutinized his 'look' in the mirror.

"Don't let the downstairs mirror catch you at that, Harry. Don't want it telling the whole family about your secret inner ponce, now." Harry walked a couple of steps out of the twins' room and onto the second floor landing.

"Hermione!" shouted Harry in the direction of Ginny's room, pretending not to pay attention to Ron's chiding. There was no movement. Harry waited a beat, and then tried again.

"Could you help me with these cuffs?" Three seconds or so later, and Hermione and Ginny had appeared in the room, quite impressed with Remus and Tonks's tastes in menswear. Hermione was busy straightening and re-straightening Harry's collar and cuffs, while Ginny was standing back pensively, taking in Harry's entire 'look', and offering pointers to Hermione.

"No, two buttons open should do it, I think. Nineteen _ninety_-six, not seventy-six, Hermione. Nice touch with the cuffs there, Lupin. Harry, you _do_ look sharp tonight. Tonks isn't going to know what hit her."

"Seeing as she helped picked out the clothes, Gin, I imagine she's got a fair idea," responded Harry, quite unaccustomed to the attention.

"Right. Well, now. Back up, Granger. Let's have a look at him. No. No that just won't do. We're going to have to do something about this hair. Potter. My room. Now. If you own a hairbrush, bring it with," commanded Ginny, who was having one of what she liked to call her 'channeling Molly' moments. Harry, not one to back down when having been given a direct order, had already made his way downstairs. Hermione and a surprisingly curious Ron followed accordingly.

"Five sickles says she gets it to stay put." Ron was heard muttering to Hermione as they walked behind Ginny.

"I'll take that bet, Weasley," she answered. "Harry's never been able to get it down even with magic."

Harry was seated in a chair in the middle of Ginny's room rather bewildered by the fuss. Ginny pulled out a small tub of what to Harry looked to be some mysterious unctuous potion. He got up, suddenly rethinking his decision to trust the young redhead.

"Merlin's beard, Potter. Sit. It's just a bit of styling gel. Wouldn't kill you to put an effort into your appearance, you know."

"Don't know if I want to be wearing more hair product than my date, Ginny. I'm pretty sure she likes blokes, and I don't want her getting confused."

"Harry," Ginny asked, plaintively, "just trust me here, please?" Harry again did as he was asked, and although it was a bit disturbing to have someone else style his hair, he felt quite comfortable where he was. After Ginny had finished, he was even more comfortable with the results.

"That's just brilliant, Ginny. You've actually made my hair look good. I mean, it's still standing up and all, but now it looks like it's supposed to."

"You should do this for yourself, Harry," Ginny answered. "You really are a good-looking guy; all I did was make your hair do what it naturally wants to do. Now go, have a good time. Tonks isn't going to know what hit her. Ginny and Hermione each gave Harry a quick hug. Meanwhile a very pointed "Ponce!" was heard being not-so-gracefully masqueraded in a cough of Ron's.

"Wait, Harry," exclaimed Hermione with a wry smile on her face. "It's not everyday that one gets fashion advice from Ron 'The Ginger Casanova' Weasley after all. Ron? What pearls of club-going-etiquette wisdom were you going to bestow to our dear Harry this evening? Were you going to regale him with ribald tales of your wasted youth sucking down butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks with Dean and Seamus? Or perhaps give him some advice on how to handle an older woman? All that experience you've racked up might do the lad some good, what? Now, pay up Weasley. That hair's anything but flat."

"_You_ pay up, Hermione, Ginny got it to look good."

"But it's still standing straight in the air. The bet was on whether she could get it to lay down."

"That's semantics"

"And you're …" But that was all Harry heard of the argument.

Tonks appeared a few moments later in an apron and a short black dress with a flowing skirt that ended high enough above the knees for Harry to stare. Or maybe it was the two inch pumps that did him in. Most likely it was the combination. Harry was hoping like hell that it wasn't the apron.

"Harry," Tonks said with her usual mirth, "you look absolutely dashing in that suit. Remus is going to be so pleased."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Did he pick it out?"

"But of course. Ha! Do you think I know anything about mens' fashion, Harry? Come now, sweets, there's Mexican waiting for us at my flat." Tonks had grabbed Harry's hand and headed for the floo before the pair was interrupted by Molly.

"Oh Harry dear, you _do_ look smart tonight. Go on with you, then. Have a wonderful time. Now, if you'll just permit me a word with Tonks, she'll catch up with you in a moment." Tonks nodded in Harry's direction.

"Go ahead, Harry. Remus is already there. I'll be just a minute." Harry wasn't comforted by Tonks's cheery demeanor. He was certain that they had been found out by Molly; that Ron couldn't be trusted to keep a secret, that Ginny's jealous streak had gotten the best of her and she had ratted them out, that Hermione's sense of 'propriety' had won out, or that he had been caught with one-too-many longing gazes over at his lady-friend.

"We're done for, Remus," was how Harry entered Tonks's flat.

"How do you mean?"

"Mrs Weasley's found us out. She's having a 'chat' with Tonks right now. Bugger, bugger, bugger!" Harry punctuated this outburst with three bangs of Tonks's kitchen counter.

"Remus Lupin, what kind of ideas are you filling our poor hero's head with now?" was the best music Harry had heard in a good long time. Tonks's laughing tone rang through her flat like churchbells, and it was a sunny Sunday morning all over Harry's face as it exploded into a smile. Harry approached the young auror with a kiss.

"How was it then, love? Stunners, or did she go straight for the Cruciatus?"

"Oh, Molly's just fine. She wanted to know what kind of protection we had for you, but I assured her that with your dashing good looks _I'd_ be the one needing protection tonight. Of course, if it's a buggering you're looking for instead…"

"Tonks!"

"then I'm going to be left out in the lurch. Merlin, Harry," and her voice got significantly lower and sultrier as she placed a lingering, purposeful kiss on his lips, "we're going to be beating them off of you with a stick." And their kiss lingered for three or four moments longer than was appropriate with company in the room.

"Ahem," interrupted Remus with a smile. "Now, I certainly don't mind if you two want to retire to Tonks's boudoir to continue this, but do let me know, because this ceviche is fabulous, and I may very well make sure that there's none left for you when you're done." And after this gentle dip in Remus's cold shower of manners, Tonks and Harry joined him at the table, and tucked into another Nymphadora Tonks Gastronomical Feat Of Wizardry. After the ceviche came a spectacular course of flank steak tacos with a zippy _pico de gallo _and homemade guacamole.

"Thought I'd have to apparate to California to get some decent avocados," began Tonks's screed on procuring her more exotic ingredients. "And jalapeños. You'd think the English had never cooked with a pepper!"

"Well, we haven't," was Remus's glib response. Harry was too busy figuring out whether he liked one or two spoons of cilantro on his taco to pay much attention.

"And can a witch buy masa anywhere in this country? No. Without magic we'd be having Shepherd's bloody Pie every night, I swear. I had to do a charm spiking the bloody pH of water to soak ears of maize _that I dried myself…" _And all Harry could do was stare in wonder as she went on about the care she put into homemade tortillas. Tonks noticed with a smirk.

"That's right, love; gorgeous, _and_ I can cook. Quite a catch if I do say so myself. Not tipped to save the world from mad dark wizards, mind, but," and her voice once again got lower as she leaned across the table nearly into Harry's lap, resting on her elbows, "I have plenty of other talents."

Harry then knew what it must feel like to be a treacle tart sitting at the Weasley's table. And there wasn't the slightest tinge of red in his face as he grinned, looking deeply into Tonks's eyes.

And that wasn't the last time that night that Harry would be looked at like a confection. Walking a good six blocks from the Underground station, Remus, Harry and Tonks appeared at the front door of Sweeney Todd's, a muggle nightclub. The rather ebullient bouncer / doorman greeted them warmly.

"Remus, sweetie, so good of you to stop by tonight. And Miss Tonks, you're looking simply fabulous. Oh my. And just who's this tall drink of water? Makes a bloke thirsty just to look at him."

"Jack, this is Harry. Harry, meet Jack. He's an old friend of your godfather's and mine." Remus introduced the beefy, crew-cut doorman to Harry, and as he mentioned Sirius, the jocular mood vanished quickly.

"Oh. Honey, you know how sorry we all are about Sirius. You just have a good time tonight. Barman Dave will take good care of you." And, as if an internal switch automatically pointed back to 'Showtime', he finished with a flourish. "And if anyone in there gives you a hard time, sweets, you just let me know. But you'll be fine, we don't bite… unless you ask nicely." Pleased with both himself and his lame joke, Jack opened the door, again with a flourish, and the three magic folks walked into a pulsatingly loud, dark, smoke-filled hall. They were able to get a table upstairs, knowing Jack as long as they had, and they sat down and ordered drinks. A scotch and water for Remus, a whiskey sour for Tonks (who was trying to girl it up for the occasion), and a cider for Harry, which was plenty of alcohol for someone whose strongest drink to date had been butterbeer. Conversation proved obnoxiously difficult with the ear-bleeding bass blaring "Show Me Love", and Harry's attention drifted to the dance floor. Upon seeing his first-ever go-go boy, Harry's only reaction was:

"Tonks, love, how _did_ we wind up at a gay nightclub?"

"Straight muggle clubs are much too bloody pretentious, darling. Plus, Remus and Jack have been friends for so long, that this is where he likes to go on his nights out. Oh come off it, sweets, it's not catching." Tonks was laughing as she stood up and took the young man by the hand, leading him to the half-filled dance floor. Harry stopped her about two feet past their table.

"Tonks, I've never danced before. How do I… they're all so _good._" Tonks leaned very, very closely into Harry's ear and said as softly as she could without having to _obliviate_ anyone:

"I charmed your suit. You'll be just fine. Relax, feel the music, and have fun. Besides, the other good thing about a gay nightclub is that they're all to busy thinking about how they look to pay any attention to you." She winked, gave him a saucy kiss on the cheek, and they kept going. The sound of digitally created heartbeats, rain and thunder brought a quickening to Tonks's steps, and by the time the digitally-created pan flutes entered the song, she was nearly as a run.

"Harry, they're playing your song!" yelled Tonks nearly in a squeal, sounding every bit the sixth-year she was when she first heard the song that was blaring from the speakers. A smoky, sultry American voice came down from the dance hall's rafters

I'm talking, I'm talking

I believe in the power of love

I'm singing, I'm singing

I believe that you can

"Rescue me!" Tonks helped Madonna along less than graciously, and Harry had let wicked smirk take over his face.

"Tonks, who sings this?" Harry shouted over the din.

"Gods, Harry, it's Madonna. Don't you recognize her?"

"Right. Think you might let her then? She's better at it than you."

"Cheeky bastard. That jokes older than you are."

"But every bit as effective. Now shut up and dance, woman!" And dance they did. Harry wasn't sure if his suit actually was charmed or not, but he was enjoying himself, and certainly not embarrassing himself during the DJ's lengthy liberties with Ms. Ciccione's work. Ten minutes later, the song had morphed almost magically into another. The drums became snares, and the bass frequency dropped so low Harry thought his eardrums would begin bleeding.

Tonks whispered, "Follow my lead, love," as she grabbed Harry by the backside and pulled his hips toward her own. As she began whispering the words to the song in his ear, they moved their bodies snakelike against each other. Had Harry been paying attention to anything other than the up and down movement of the glistening décolleté of his pink-haired girl, he'd have had proof that his suit was charmed. Because he ought not have been able to remain standing when Tonks whispered

I wanna kiss you in Paris

I wanna hold your hand in Rome

I wanna run naked in a rainstorm

Make love in a train cross-country

so close to his ear that all of the hair on the back of his neck stood up on end, disregarding the ridiculously hot conditions on the dance floor.

I don't wanna be your mother

I don't wanna be your sister either

I just wanna be your lover

I wanna be your baby

Kiss me, that's right, kiss me

And grabbing the scruff of Tonks's neck, pulling her face toward him, Harry did just that, earning the two of them quite a few second-looks. Their bodies mimicked the impatient lust dripping from the speakers.

Talk to me -- tell me your dreams

Am I in them?

Tell me your fears

Are you scared?

Tell me your stories

I'm not afraid of who you are

And as both Tonks and Madonna got to

We can fly!

Tonks tugged on Harry's earlobe with her teeth, running her fingernails down his sweat-soaked neck hard enough to leave three red lines in their wake. All thoughts of propriety, of composure, hell, all thoughts that there might be more than two people in that room were gone. Three minutes later the song ended, and Tonks growled

"Follow me"

in Harry's ear. The two of them took off through the crowds for what Tonks knew would be a very deserted ladies' room. Not having time to argue that yes, this is the ladies' room, and yes, your ruddy arse is going straight in there, Tonks simply pushed the young man ahead of her through the door and into the end stall.Whatever vestiges of boyhood were left on the young man who had twice survived encounters with Voldemort were lost there, seated on the tank in a stall, head and back pressed against cold, wet tile, and fingers full of pink hair. Ten minutes later, Tonks headed for the sinks to clean up, and Harry nearly died when he heard a man's affected voice telling her

"Honey, if you can make that boy scream for mythical wizards, I want your technique!"

and he made a rather noisy attempt at locking himself in the stall. Tonks knocked after the drag queen had made his way out of the loo.

"He's gone, Harry. You can come out now. All clear." Harry's face was crimson.

"Oh, no need for blushing, love. You're hardly the first to have _that_ done to them here. Hell, you're not even the first tonight from what I've seen. Now buck up. We're going to wish Remus a very good night, and then I have dessert back at my flat."

"Right. What are we having, then?" Tonks looked Harry up and down, licking her lips in a way that buckled his knees when he caught a glimpse.

"Treacle Tart. My favorite."

**More Author's Note:** Lyrics for "Rescue Me" originally written by Madonna and Shep Pettibone. Lyrics for "Justify My Love" originally written by Lenny Kravitz. Both © 1991, Sire Music.

Yes, I'm a huge Madonna fan. Have been since "Like a Virgin". In 1996 she had not yet moved to England, so any snarky comments about her accent or religious leanings will have to wait until I write "Summer of 2006", which wouldn't involve Tonks anyway. This was a fun chapter to write. I hope you enjoyed it to. Please do let me know; the button's right down there.

-Christopher


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: **Short chapter, but I did update quickly. Again, I may be treading water with the rating here, but this is probably the last time that'll happen. Do enjoy:

Chapter Seven:

"Morning, sweets."

Tonks walked into the bedroom of her cozy London flat holding a breakfast tray. A pot of tea, two cups and saucers, cream and sugar, croissants, butter and jam were the first things Harry saw after groping around for his glasses and sliding them on his face. Then he glanced over at his lover, clad in a silk kimono-style robe that reached one third of the way down her thighs.

"Breakfast is brilliant, love, but what's with all of that fabric? Come back to bed." Harry patted beside him and winked at the girl. Sheepishly she doffed the robe and slid under the covers, overturning the pot of tea onto the duvet."

"Bugger!" they both exclaimed, jumping quickly out of bed. Tonks was quick with her wand and an _Evanesco_ vanished the tea before too much harm was done. Harry placed the tray on the floor and stared starkly at his quite starkers paramour. A very rare blush crept over the usually unflappable Miss Tonks, and she tried to ignore it away.

"What are you staring at?"

"You," replied Harry. "Simply beautiful." Tonks's blush was in full bloom. Like a hastily cast _Protego_ she replied

"I'd say you were just trying to get into my knickers, Potter, but seeing as you've been there, I'll just take the compliment." She then laughed, and Harry joined her. They looked each other deeply in the eyes for a good thirty seconds of silence; not an uncomfortable silence, but an opportunity to say what was on their hearts without vocalizing. Harry placed a hand on Tonks's cheek, caressing it gently. She leaned into this caress with her head, kissing and nuzzling into his palm. Emboldened, Harry cupped his free hand behind her head and drew his face to hers in a kiss. Then with a maneuver of which any Quidditch seeker would be proud, he wound up with Tonks pinned below him, and his glasses flung across the room. He grabbed the young woman's wrists, held them over her head and kissed her with a ferocity that perhaps could only be found in a young man who knew he might not see his twentieth birthday. Tenaciously fierce Auror Tonks could do nothing more than luxuriate in being taken – perhaps even ravished – by Harry. She mewled out a whimper, let her body go slack, and simply – for the first time in her young life – let someone else run the show awhile.

While the previous night's lovemaking had been – minus a stouter overhead light-fixture and some dessert toppings – everything any sixth-year would have dreamed of, that morning's sex had a much different character to it. While Harry could in no sense of the word be called 'experienced', he was a quick study, and most of the mechanics had been figured out that previous night, leaving him free to simply enjoy. The sunlight shining in through the filmy curtains afforded him use of his sense of sight; such as it was without his glasses. Using this, a pensieve account of the morning would have, in the impressionist manner of seeing only the myopic enjoy, shown a swollen set of lips, parted in a distinct 'O' shape, allowing for maximized oxygen intake. It would have shown eyes that bored straight into his head, then opened wide, nearly in surprise before rolling back into their sockets. He watched her breasts bounce rhythmically, noticed the glistening of sweat on her training-cut abdomen, felt three of her fingernails nearly draw blood as they slid down his neck and chest, and heard her invoke the names of several wizards found on Chocolate Frog cards, before he, too, collapsed in satiated exhaustion next to her.

"Sweet Helga's handbag, Harry. That was just…"

"Brilliant's what it was, love. I could get used to this." Tonks rolled over and looked at Harry with a silly grin on her face.

"What could you get used to, sweets?" she asked.

"This. Waking up to tea in bed, or _on_ bed, as the case may be." Harry chuckled. "Mind-blowing sex with you in the morning, dancing with you in the evening. This whole thing has been just brilliant."

"Harry, I've had a wonderful time, too." There was a passion in the young man's eyes that Tonks found distinctly disquieting. The slightest bit of concern was developing on her face. Harry, who had yet to develop skills in deciphering non-verbal communication, was oblivious. Nonetheless, what he had to say was important, and he paused a moment before his Gryffindor impulsivity got the best of him.

"Yes. This," he said, gently stroking Tonks's cheek, "I could certainly get used to." He gently placed a kiss on her lips. "I feel this, you know, very strongly."

"Feel what, Harry?" Her voice was quickly moving from low and sultry pillowtalk to a much more wary level.

"This connection somehow. Between us. I mean, it was palpable… I thought I could reach out and grab it."

Tonks was not clumsy enough with other people's feelings to sigh at this point. However, she also wasn't experienced enough to know exactly what to say. She looked for something comforting, but something that wouldn't be a declaration of – of feelings she wasn't sure she had for the uniquely scarred young man in front of her. She cupped his face in her hand and forced a smile.

"It's like that with your first time, Harry. There's quite the connection that develops. I don't think you ever lose it, or forget it."

With all of his might, Harry willed himself not to look crestfallen. If he could have lit a match to his eyes to create a brightness, it would have served the double purpose of masking his disappointment and numbing his emotional pain with physical pain. He manufactured the kind of condescending laugh he had too often heard adults at Hogwarts use when he would say something that reminded them of his immaturity.

"Right. First time. Good to know it's common, then."

The silence that followed, although just about equal in length to the one they shared forty-five minutes previous, had none of the quiet comfort of the earlier occasion. Tonks, knowing she had made a particularly poor choice of words, couldn't look Harry in the eye. Harry, who had just made a complete ass of himself opening up to the older woman, was making a careful study of the ticking on Tonks's duvet. About a minute later, Harry began to feel rather self-conscious about his lack of clothing.

"Tonks, I'd, um… I'd better be going. Don't want Mrs Weasley to worry or anything," was the excuse Harry made as he began to put on the suit he had worn the night before. The pink-haired Hufflepuff suddenly found her inner Gryffindor.

"Harry, wait. Don't… let's not part like this. Look, it was such a lovely start to the morning, it's just… I'm really not able to reciprocate those kinds of feelings right now. Harry… Harry, please?"

"Tonks, really, it's okay. Look, it's like you said, first time and whatnot. I'll see you Monday for meditation with the others, right? Thanks for everything." And he planted a half-hearted kiss on her lips and called out "The Burrow" once he stepped inside her fireplace. Neither of them could quite figure out what had happened or what went wrong. Tonks simply stared, dumbstruck, at the doorway to her bedroom, naked, holding her pillow while a sob or two welled up inside her. Harry, once he picked himself up off of the floor of the Weasley's sitting room, plopped himself onto a couch and just stared off into space.

"Good morning, Harry." Molly had heard his trademark stumble and put on a pot of tea. Harry tried his best to look as if he was just coming home from a wonderful, yet strangely chaste evening out. '_What was the ruse? Gobstones and Exploding Snap until two, then off to bed, right?_'

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley." Molly opened her arms to the young man for an embrace. Harry walked into the kitchen and straight into his surrogate mother's arms. She placed a kiss on his forehead and sat him down at the kitchen table. Gathering two teacups and saucers, she placed a set in front of Harry and gave him a rather pointed looking-over.

"Now dear, I'd ask how Remus is, but I don't stand for dishonesty in my house, and that would put you in rather an awkward place. So, I'll simply ask if you had a good time."

"Lovely, Mrs Weasley. Thank you." Harry was trying his best, as he always did, but the way he had left Tonks's house was weighing much too heavily on him at that moment. Molly, having raised six boys, knew quite well that there was a time to chastise and a time to help pick up the pieces. She also knew there was a time when a boy needed a mother, and a time when he most certainly did not. Eleven years of adolescent boys in the house had trained her quite well, and she merely sat down next to Harry, put a hand over his, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Harry? Is there something I can do to help?" Quite wrapped up in his own emotions, Harry couldn't notice the concern on Molly's face. But he was certainly appreciative of the peer-like tone she used. He pulled himself together enough to answer her.

"No, no thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I'm quite alright." Molly let him have his charade. She couldn't help him as it was.

"Very well," she answered. I'll leave you to it, then." Molly stood up, placed the pot of tea on the table and into a cozy, placed a kiss on top of Harry's head, and left him to sit at the table. He sat there for a while drinking Molly's famous Orange Pekoe. The magic in the tea worked. It was a good hour before he was disturbed again.

"Harry?" Harry looked up from his third cup of tea to find Hermione at the bottom of the stairs and walking into the kitchen.

"Harry, are you okay? You look pensive and brooding, even for you."

"Brilliant, Hermione, why do you ask?" Harry terse tone was noticed immediately.

"Right. Well, unless you want to be wearing Tonks's perfume all day, I suggest you get upstairs, showered and changed. We'll talk later, alright?" Hermione gave Harry a tight hug. "Hm. Thierry Mugler. Angel, right? Hannah Abbott wears that, too. Tell Tonks she has excellent taste, Harry." Hermione winked at him, and let him get to his shower.

After supper that evening, Harry and Hermione did talk, with Ron present as well. Harry, of course, let them know in generalities what had gone on at Tonks's flat. When pressed by Hermione for answers on how he was feeling, or pressed by Ron for answers about what it was like, he demurred, preferring rather to talk about Remus, or the club, or Remus's friend Jack, or his stylish moves. By this point Ron, who knew that Harry simply wouldn't talk, had figured out that all was not well. Hermione had given up on trying to eek an expression of emotion out of the boy, and had headed back to the room she and Ginny shared. Ron used that moment to head to his own room, as well. About an hour later, Ron knocks on Harry's door and walks in.

"Right, Harry. There's something about all this Tonks business that just doesn't make sense."

"And what is that then, Ron?"

"Well, I mean, if it were _my_ first time, you know, I'd probably be a bit, I don't know, happy about it. Just a thought, I mean. Hermione wouldn't catch on. She'd be trying to _process_ things, looking for meaning and whatnot. Me, I'd just have a bit of a spring in my step. But you don't have either of those, Harry. What's going on?"

"Alright, but not a word." Harry looked at his best friend sternly.

"Mate, you know I wouldn't do that to you. Now, spill it."

"Right. Well, there's not much to spill. Suffice it to say that while the morning started out brilliantly, Tonks and I didn't part on the best of terms."

"That's it? You had a row." Ron was, understandably, confused. Harry continued.

"A bit more than a row, to be honest. Look, I, well, I rather opened up to her, and said some things she wasn't ready to hear. Then she tries to sneak her way out of things, I get embarrassed that I opened my fool mouth in the first place, tell her everything is fine and leave. Then I come home and your mother knows everything that's gone on. She didn't let on at all that she was going to forbid, mind, but she didn't look pleased."

"Merlin, Harry. That's not good."

"And they say Hermione's the clever one…"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

Those closest to Harry at that time, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, found Harry's next move to be nothing short of supernatural. What began as a run-of-the mill brood started to morph inexorably out of control. It started out as remarkable actions from one of them tended to, with an older outsider's wise words or prompting. It wasn't Remus this time, nor was it Dumbledore, or a Death-Eater polyjuiced up to look like Mad Eye Moody. It was Bill who caught Harry having a good mope all by himself out by Arthur's shed on Sunday morning.

"Alright Harry, out with it. I know muggle electrical fixtures don't fascinate you nearly as much as you let on."

"What happened then, did your mum call in the 'wise older brother' figure to fix whatever wee problems ickle Harrykins has? Thanks, honestly Bill, but I think I'd rather brood." Harry was in no mood to deal with wisdom or sense at that moment, and he'd be damned if someone – even Hermione – was going to force him into that.

"No, mum didn't let on a thing, mate. I just saw you out here. I saw you brooding – a fine one I might add, as the dank shed with the odd bits of muggle parts lends a bit of pathos to the whole scene – and figured you had gotten some bad news from your OWL results. Hermione's a bit down with her one "E", you know, but none of us has the stomach to deal with that. I figured what with not getting the "O" in Potions you'd be a bit down, but if you don't want to talk about it…"

"You knew Tonks in school, right?" Harry was certainly in a state, and not as able to deflect folks poking around in his feelings as he ordinarily would be.

"Sure. Right odd bird back then. She's grown up some, if you can believe it. She and Charlie had a thing for a while, but don't remind Mum. She was trying to set something up between Miss Tonks and me from the moment I met Fleur until the time I put a ring on her finger. Why the sudden interest in… Oh. So that's it." Bill looked amused. Harry was annoyed, which was indistinguishable from his previous state of being annoyed.

"What's it? What do you know all of a sudden? Going to give me some sage advice on teenaged crushes? Tell me how it was I came to be fucking her senseless one moment, and then the next looking for the first floo back to the Burrow? That'd be a bit more on-point, Bill." Harry, visibly embarrassed to have played his cards so quickly, stuck his head in his hands.

"Merlin, Harry…"

"Strange, she was saying something to that effect too, but it had a bit more passion to it."

"Right. I get that part, mate. How'd you wind up in the floo rushing home? Did she ask you to move in or something?"

"No, Bill. She didn't. I haven't a clue what happened, but… Damnit, Bill. How could I be so stupid?" Harry pounded his head on the shed door lightly.

"Harry, you're a man. It's in your nature to bollocks up things regarding women. Now, I'm a curse-breaker. Let's see if I can peel back the events here and lets at least figure out what you did wrong. Maybe there's a way to fix it."

"What? No 'She's too old for you'? No 'You're too young for this kind of thing?'"

"Harry, I'm not your dad. And I wish to hell I could pass you off to him, but probably not as much as you do. Scratch that. He'd probably throttle you for getting yourself mixed up with an auror in her twenties. I know we're not blood-related, mate, but I've a fair bit of experience in the older brother role. Do you want me to take you out someplace so we can have a chat over this?" Bill put his arm around the younger man, ruffling his hair. Harry was wary, but interested.

"Honestly, I think I'd rather stay here a bit." Harry was looking at his shoes, but he did hear two pops, about five seconds apart.

"That'll be fine, mate. But we're not going to figure this all out without a bit of lubrication. Bottoms up, then." Bill poured them each a mug of firewhiskey and waited for Harry to begin speaking. Harry told the eldest Weasley son all about the club, the unexpected visit to the ladies' room, and his confession and subsequent disappointment the following morning. Bill maintained an air of sagacity, as best he could under the extraordinary circumstances.

"Coming from any other sixteen-year-old, Potter, and I'd be feeding you veritaserum. Unfortunately though, the remarkable has a way of finding you. So, as far as I can see, you told her some things about the way you're feeling that she's not really ready to hear. And you took it badly when she made it clear that she wasn't looking for your relationship to go much further than it has. And after you took it badly, you acted like an idiot. Sound about right so far?"

"I acted like a what, Bill?"

"An idiot, mate. A git, a prat, blockhead… feel free to jump in here with your own. But running out on a bird not three minutes after you've shagged her isn't going to win you any awards from Witch Weekly."

"Got enough of those anyway, thanks."

"Suppose you do," Bill continued, "but at this point we're not talking about whether you want to have a romantic relationship with Tonks. Merlin, it's not even about whether you want to shag her again. Right now you have to ask yourself if you want to be able to look her in the eyes at some point. Do you?"

"Well of course I do. What, do you think I wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Could you right now if you had to?" Bill waited a moment or two for an answer. "Of course you couldn't. So if you want that to change, you're going to need to hash it all out with the lass."

"I'd rather face a few dozen Death Eaters, thank you very much." Harry said this with a finality that rather irked Bill. He and Tonks had been friends back at Hogwarts, due to her dating Charlie for a bit, and he had quite a bit of respect for the young woman.

"And do you know why, Harry? Because for what may be the first time in your life, you're feeling badly for something you actually did. You ran out on her like a scared little boy. And, unlike with what happened to Sirius or that Diggory boy, you need to take care of this. You need to talk to her, apologize. She's a good witch, Harry, and deserves better than what you've given her so far. Look, Harry. You're not a bad guy here. You're just in a bit over your head. But you've been in over your head more times than most, and you'll be able to pull yourself out of this one, too. So buck up, mate. It's not going to be worse than dueling You-Know-Who."

Harry looked distressed at Bill's words. Bill was right, of course, but when dueling Death Eaters, Harry at least knew a few spells to get him out of a jam. Here, the only spell that would help him would be the _Imperius_ curse, and that could land him in Azkaban. That this occurred to him at all was proof enough that he needed to do something. And that's when it hit. No, it certainly wasn't going to be worse than dueling Voldemort, but it was going to be bad. But, if he had the courage to take on old Tom Riddle, then certainly he could find it in himself to talk to Nymphadora Tonks.

"What in Merlin's name do I say, Bill? She's never going to want to see me now."

"What you say depends entirely on what outcome you're looking for."

"What does _that_ mean?" Harry was desperately confused. Bill pondered for a moment before coming up with possible plans of attack.

"Let's see. If it's a long-term relationship you're looking for, then you're going to want to start out slowly, maybe just get to 'hello' on the first go. If you just want back into her knickers, then a very direct approach is required. Go over there and in the first fifteen seconds let her know that you know you've been a right arse. If you're looking to bow out gracefully but remain friends, well…" Bill paused to gather his thoughts.

"Yes, I'm listening," offered Harry, impatiently.

"Might as well try offing You-Know-Who with a disarming spell, Harry. It's not going to happen. But you're a good man, and if that's what you want, you're better off failing at something that's honest rather than succeeding in something dishonest. If that's the tack you're looking for, I'd suggest a middle speed. You're still looking to repair a relationship, but if you bugger it up a bit, or shall I say a bit more, you're none the worse off. And you will bugger it up"

"Right. Now I guess the only question is which of those approaches to use." Harry said this more calmly than he would have, had he known the ramifications of what he was implying.

"You mean you don't know what you want?"

"Should I?"

"Well, yes. Or you should at least try to figure it out."

And that's when it struck Harry. Obviously, this was a tougher situation than his prophesied tête-à-tête with Tom Riddle. He was going to have to call in his team. They'd known him longer and better than anyone else, and since the problem was with him, they'd be the best people for the job. Hermione's jaw hit the floor as Ron explained this line of reasoning to her.

"Of course, Hermione. Who else would he turn to for help here?"

"Ronald, this is Harry Potter we're talking about. You remember Harry, right? Black hair, green eyes, lightning bolt scar, famously introverted."

"And?"

"And, he's asking for help dealing with his feelings." Hermione pondered this for a moment. Then she turned sheet-white and drew her wand, hands shaking as she approached Harry.

"How do we know it's really you then, Harry? This is so… out of character for you, after all." Harry raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"Would you like me to regale the entire Weasley family with stories of your life as a cat, then, Hermione? Or will you just take my word that it's me?" Harry was rather amused at the goings-on, and deep inside he was proud that his friend would have the strength to pull her wand on him. Hermione gathered what was left of her pride and carried on.

"Right. Well, I guess you would be the only one to know that, then. So, Harry, how do we get started here?"

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked. Ron looked a bit perplexed.

"Why are you bringing her into this, Harry? I'm not sure she really needs to hear about your sex life, mate."

"She, er, already knows, Ron." Hermione was biting her lip, a bit ashamed of having to make this admission. She gave Harry a meaningful look by way of apology. Harry didn't seem to mind.

"I rather figured you'd have let her know, Hermione. Come now, Ron. Did you really think she'd let a story she could probably sell to Witch Weekly for 10,000 galleons go without telling _anyone_? She may be the brightest witch of our or any age, but Merlin, man, she's also a teenaged girl. Hermione, would you go and get her, then?" Hermione, not sure whether to be grateful that Harry wasn't peeved or irked that he lumped her in with the likes of her giggling Hogwarts roommates simply did as she was asked, and returned with Ginny a few minutes later.

"Right. So, is the Golden bloody Trio so sick of looking at each other that you need to bring a fourth in to keep you all from killing each other?" Ginny was much too proud to let the three older teenagers know how thrilled she was to be included in one of their ever-so-important meetings.

"No, Gin. I've got a bit of a dilemma, and Tonks said I should have my whole team with me for the really tough problems. So if you could lend a hand, I'd certainly appreciate it. If you don't want to, though, I don't mind. Really not."

"Alright, then. What's the problem, Potter? Bollocks up things with Tonks?" Ginny looked at Harry skeptically.

"As a matter of fact…" And Harry launched once more into the tale of woe he told Bill, not leaving much of anything out this time.

"…and I flooed straight back to the Burrow. Merlin, I even heard her crying a little bit as I left. What?"

"Potter, did you really call me up here just so you could go on about your conquests?" Ginny was steamed. Hermione tried to shush her, but she continued. "You know, I'm dead proud of The Boy Who Shagged and all that, but couldn't you just get a good slap on the back from Ron and be done with it?" Harry wasn't having any of that.

"Is that what you think this is, Weasley? You think I'm up here killing myself over some fling? And what, now I'm classless enough to throw this in your face or something? What do you take me for? Damnit, Ginny. I've already lost enough friends through my boneheadedness; I don't need to lose another. And like I said before, if you don't want to be part of this, the bloody door's right behind you." Harry stood up and pointed at the door, waiting for Ginny to huff her way out of the room. Instead she just looked at him with a rather shocked expression on her face, which quickly morphed into a pitying one. Harry was a bit upset to read this, however.

"Well?" he continued, "are you staying or going, Weasley?"

"I am so sorry, Harry. I didn't think of it this way," was how Ginny tried to make her amends.

"I don't need your pity, either. I need your help. Now you too, Hermione?" Hermione was giving Harry her famous 'concerned mother hen' look. "What is with you two? Can't we just discuss this like rational people instead of this water works shite?" They couldn't, of course, but at sixteen one doesn't generally know these things. Hermione steeled her expression as best she could. Ginny got up and gave Harry a rather fond hug, which he accepted similarly fondly, smiling at the lass. He continued, without the bluster.

"Right. So, I spoke with Bill about this earlier, and from that discussion it looks as though the first thing I have to do is to figure out what it is I want out of my relationship with Tonks. He suggested friendship, long-term romance and a rather distasteful short-term sexual relationship as options. There may be more, however, so I'm open for suggestions. Then, once we figure out what it is I want, we can build a strategy for getting me there. So, suggestions, anyone?"

The others in the room looked as though Harry had sprouted a second head. He wasn't budging, though. Ron finally broke the silence.

"Don't you think we're a bit out of our league here, mate?"

"Fine, Ron. I'll show you how it goes by helping you out. Let's see. You're head over arse for Hermione. She's head over arse for you. What do you want? My guess is a long-term romantic relationship. What should your approach be? My suggestion: pick her up by her lapels, drag her into Percy's room and snog her brains out. Ginny, what do you think?" Ginny was beside herself with laughter at her brother and best friend.

"Brilliant suggestion, Harry. Couldn't think of a better one myself, except maybe for Hermione doing the picking up and dragging." Ginny continued to laugh.

"Hermione, what do you think?" Harry asked her, trying to maintain his composure. Hermione's composure had long since gone.

"I think you should sod off, all of you!" she bellowed, and stormed out of the twins' room.

"H'mione, wait!" Ron called after her, and followed her downstairs. Ginny and Harry looked at each other in silence for a few moments before Harry spoke up.

"Well, that wasn't how I imagined that going. Reckon that speeds things along, Gin?"

"Not with my brain-addled git for a brother, Harry. We'll be lucky if he doesn't go down there and make things worse. Speaking of which, you're in a world of trouble, aren't you?"

"Right. Figured that one out on my own, even."

"And what in Merlin's name are you going to do about meditation lessons tomorrow? You're not going to skive off because you don't know what to say to Tonks, are you?"

"No," Harry replied thoughtfully, "no I'm not. Not sure what I'm going to do, but that's not it." Harry looked absolutely crushed. Here was his best shot at trying to maintain some kind of normalcy with Tonks, and he had blown it with an ill-timed joke. He put his head in his hands, dejectedly. Ginny went to him and placed an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him comfortingly.

"Harry, it's alright. You do have one thing going for you in all this, you know."

"Really, what's that, Gin?"

"Well, you did go through an awful lot of trouble putting this together with the four of us. And you've been talking about it – willingly, mind – with people, trying to sort things out. It shows me you really care for the girl. And if Tonks knew about it, it would show her that, too." Harry was thrilled.

"Really? Merlin. Think I should go over there? I mean, this sort of thing should probably be hashed out in person, don't you think?"

"Easy there, Casanova," Ginny calmed him. "You're not going anywhere without a direct invite. Send her an owl, letting her know that you know what a blockhead you've been. Tell her what you've been doing to get your head out of your arse. And tell her you're looking forward to seeing her tomorrow, and that you'd like to sort things out. And maybe, just maybe, she won't tell you to bugger off and not come near her ever again. As for me, I think she's a sucker for a pair of eyes like – how did that go? Right – freshly-pickled toads." Ginny smiled at Harry genuinely as they shared a laugh, and she left him to his letter-writing.

**Author's note: **Sorry about the delay, folks. This was the toughest chapter to write. Interesting the way it worked, though: I hadn't a clue which way I wanted the rest of the story to go, so I used this chapter to let the characters decide it for me. So if this chapter seems a little haphazard, please accept my apologies. If it didn't work at all, well, let me know. Speaking of which: I have the best readers, ever. Thanks for all the reviews – they really do help. Now, keep it up :) -Christopher


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

_Dear Tonks,_

_I don't really know what to say. I've acted like a scared little boy, and running out on you was probably the worst thing I could have done at that moment. You've been nothing but brilliant to me, and I've acted simply atrociously. I do hope we'll be able to talk about this tomorrow, probably after a bit of meditation. That's been a big help, too. I sat for a while today, quietly, and waited to see what kind of next step would come to me. Then Bill appeared and gave me some advice, albeit mingled with a little firewhiskey. And I took your advice, too. For the really big problems, I gathered my team. Wound up cheesing off Ron and Hermione with a rather poorly-timed joke, but Ginny was loads of help. I hope you don't mind that I talked with them about all this, but I really didn't know what else to do. I do so enjoy spending time with you, Tonks, and would hate for my childish behaviour to ruin it all. If you could find it in your heart even just to talk with me once, I'd be quite grateful. If not, please at least let me know, and I'll just bow out gracefully. Hopefully I'll be able to repair our friendship one day, which means the world to me. Thank you for taking time to read this, and I do hope to talk with you tomorrow._

_-Harry_

After he finished the note, he went to Bill and Fleur's room to look for Bill. After Fleur told Harry kindly "Beel is not eer, ee is in zhe Diagon Allée," Harry looked for Ginny to read over his note to Tonks.

"Gin, I finished that note. Would you mind taking a look at it before I send it off?" He handed the parchment to the petite redhead, and studied her expression as she read. There wasn't much to go by, simply a sharp intake of breath followed by a short blush, then a furrowed brow. When she was done, she handed it back to Harry.

"That was, er, good, Harry. Very good. She'd be a fool not to see you after reading that." Harry was grateful, took the note and headed back to the twins' room with a bounce in his step. Perhaps this wasn't hopeless after all. Harry rolled up the parchment and sealed it, carving his initials into the wax. He tied the note onto Hedwig's leg and sent the bird off. He then flopped down onto Fred's old bed and tried his hardest to think of anything else. About twenty minutes later, Ron burst into his room, two brooms (one of which was Harry's Firebolt) in his hands.

"Potter, get up. You. Me. Orchard. Quidditch. Now," was all a very red-faced Ron was able to stammer out. Harry sat up and looked at his friend.

"What's this about then, Ron?"

"Potter, you have about five minutes to get out to the orchard before I'm no longer responsible for my actions." And Ron left in as big a huff as he entered. Harry, not seeing much of a choice in the matter, got up, put on some robes that were good for flying in, and made his way outside as he was told.

"Alright. Here's how it goes. You're going to fling that quaffle at the usual trees, and I'm going to block it. And you'd better hope you tire me out, Chosen Boy, or the wizarding world is going to be down one savior."

"Er, right, Ron. We'll just get to the Quidditch, then. Five meter rule for penalties in effect, then?"

"I don't give a rat's arse, Harry. Just get on your broom."

The boys mounted their brooms quickly. Harry took the quaffle in his hands and flew to the middle of the orchard. Ron was waiting by his tree-goals, quite a menacing look on his face. Harry wasn't much of a chaser, but he resolved to give Ron the best penalty shoot-out of his life. He started out heading toward the middle goal, looking Ron straight in the eyes. Ron didn't waver. Harry feinted a dive, then rose about ten feet above the trees before making a sudden cut left and rattling the left tree-goal with the quaffle. Ron retrieved the ball and tossed it rudely back at Harry. Harry, not in the mood for fighting with his best friend, caught the quaffle and looked at Ron tauntingly.

"Right. That's one. Tell you what – when I get to five you can tell me what this all about, okay?"

"Just shut up and shoot the damned quaffle, Potter," was Ron's irritated response. Harry went back to the middle of the orchard. This time he flew in a zig-zag pattern that spanned the width of the goals before letting go a shot to the middle tree. Ron blocked that after a bit of recovery from one of Harry's faked shots. Harry flew down and grabbed the quaffle before it hit the ground.

"Nice one, mate," he offered, but Ron was still looking at him with the same murderous gleam in his eyes.

Twenty minutes later, the scoreline was five tallies for Harry and three blocks by Ron. Both boys were now agitated, and the thrill of competition had gone straight to their heads. They weren't talking, simply shooting and blocking, flying at each other and alongside each other. After his fifth tally, Harry received the quaffle from Ron, his earlier offer long forgotten. He once again sailed high above the tree canopy, only this time he was going to make a direct strike on the middle goal. Ron was waiting. When Harry flew to eight meters from goal, still twenty feet above the trees, Ron took off to block his friend's access. Both boys flying at top speed, they crashed into one another, tumbling to the ground. Luckily for them, they had unknowingly acquired an audience of one. Molly came running to where they were lying in a tangled mess of robes, blood and broom parts. Six _episkey_ spells and two _reparos_ later, she looked the two square in the eyes.

"Sweet Godric! I ought to have left you two where you were. What on earth were you boys trying to prove up there, anyway? Can't you simply talk to each other like civilized human beings?" She knew they couldn't, but it was against her nature to suggest any other course of action.

"What was that all about anyway, boys?" Molly asked.

"Oh, nothing mum. All sorted out now. Whadd'ya say, Harry?" Ron looked at his friend with a rather silly grin on his face.

"Right, Ron. All sorted out." Harry returned the grin. Molly walked away in a huff muttering something about "Boys! Honestly!" and the two lads shared a chuckle before helping each other off the ground. By this time Hermione had come running outside to check on the two of them.

"You. Are. Such. A. Prat. Harry. Potter!" she yelled at Harry, punctuating each word with two or three punches to his arms, which were protecting his chest. She continued to pummel her friend as he defended himself verbally.

"Hey, enough, Hermione. Ron did a good enough job of kicking my arse for the both of you. Stop!" And she did, and turned to Ron with a much softer look.

"Were you hurt up there, Ron?" she asked, grabbing one of the gobsmacked redhead's hands, and touching his cheek with her free hand. "Come then," she added, "let's go inside and play some chess." Hermione started dragging Ron back towards the house. Ron looked at Harry rather confused, but Harry shot him a look and hand gesture that was supposed to convey, 'what are you doing, man? Go. Have fun.' Ron got that and left Harry on his own by the mended brooms. Hermione called back to him.

"Harry. Hedwig's back with a letter for you. You might want to read it."

Yes. Yes Harry did want to read that letter. Sort of. Maybe. Depending on what it said, of course. He started back to the house at a brisk walk, and then slowed when he realized he might not want to know the letter's contents. He paused for a moment with the letter in his hands. Ginny steadied him with two comforting hands on his shoulders as he took a deep breath and opened it.

_Dear Harry,_

_Love. Yesterday morning you were going to tell me that you loved me. That was all. Love is a beautiful, wonderful thing, and something no one has given me since I left Hogwarts. And at Hogwarts, it was something boys generally mentioned to get me into the sack, not something they talked about afterwards. So I was deathly afraid of what you were telling me – so afraid that I cut you down when you were at your most vulnerable. Is this an excuse for my behaviour, no. But I do hope it can be the beginnings of an apology. _

_I just got your note, sweets. So yesterday morning I cut you to bits, and you react quite naturally for a boy of any age, and somehow you wind up apologizing to __**me**__? Merlin, Harry, this girl doesn't deserve the amount of love you have inside you. I was so happy to get your owl, Harry. Of course I want to see you tomorrow, I just can't believe you still want anything to do with me after how I've treated you. I'm very sorry for that, Harry. Please let me make this up to you._

_Yours,_

_Nymphadora Tonks._

_P.S. I'm so glad you wrote first. Bravery was never this Hufflepuff's strong suit._

Harry turned around with a wide grin on his face. Ginny looked at him and smiled.

"Harry, that's brilliant. I'm so happy for you. When are you going to talk with her?"

"She mentioned that she wanted to see me tomorrow at the usual time. I guess it'll happen then. Thank you so much, Ginny. I couldn't have written that without your help." Harry's grin had widened further as he enveloped Ginny in a firm embrace, which she returned gladly. They held on for a moment or two longer than either of them felt comfortable with, and Harry made a quick apology and headed upstairs to Ron's room to tell him the good news.

Racing up the stairs, Harry bounded into Ron's room to find Ron and Hermione sitting quite closely on Ron's bed. Hermione had one of Ron's hands gripped in her own; they were speaking in hushed voices and looking rather deeply into each other's eyes. They were leaning into each other slowly when Harry burst through the door.

"Ron, she wrote back! It's – oh. Sorry, guys." Harry turned around sheepishly when he saw what he was obviously interrupting. Hermione and Ron jumped about a foot in the air upon hearing Harry's voice, and backed away from each other quickly.

"No Harry, it's fine. I was just leaving. Ronald, we'll, er, pick up this discussion later, right?" Hermione got up to leave after she got her heart rate down to a reasonable level.

"Hermione, wait," Harry said to his friend as she was making her way out of Ron's room. "Look, I'm really sorry about what happened earlier. I _was_ just taking the piss; didn't think it would go over quite that badly. It's not my place to say what you and Ron should or shouldn't be getting into, after all. You guys are my best friends in the world, I only want to see you two happy."

"Harry, it's okay – really it is. It's been a bit of a long couple of months is all. I needn't have been so touchy about it. You're right – It was just a bit of a joke." Hermione planted a friendly kiss on Harry's cheek and left the boys to discuss Harry's strategy for the following day.

**Author's Note:**

Thanks so much for the reviews, folks! I'm glad chapter 8 went over so well. Don't murder me over this one – resolution is forthcoming, I promise. This probably should have gone at the end of chapter 8, but after that long break, I just needed to get something posted.

Keep up the wonderful reviewing, and long live Harry/Tonks!

-Christopher


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Chapter 10:

Molly was watching. Pretty closely, it turns out. Harry knew that the jig had been up shortly after he had flooed home on Saturday, but the full extent of Molly's knowledge of his situation was still a mystery. There was one unmistakable fact, however. Everywhere he turned, Molly was watching.

It was a steamy, sunny Monday afternoon. Ron and Harry were just finishing clearing up from lunch when Molly asked Harry to join her in the sitting room. Harry took a seat on an armchair trepidatiously as Molly continued to watch him; a stern look on the matriarch's face. As no one else had laid claim to the role of Mother in Harry's life – no one living, that is – it was Molly's responsibility to address some of the concerns she had regarding what she had seen on Saturday and Sunday.

"Harry, we do need to talk before you go over to Miss Tonks's flat this afternoon."

She paused a bit before speaking; this was, of course, no ordinary child she was addressing, and many of life's normal rules didn't seem to apply where Harry Potter was concerned. The Battle at the Department of Mysteries was certainly evidence enough of that. This was a young man who could handle himself; at least on the battlefield. Perhaps he could acquit himself with similar class throughout some of life's more mundane trials.

"As I told you Saturday, I do not stand for dishonesty from my children; and this does include you, Harry, so I will save you the pain of having to admit things I know perfectly well. I know that you and Tonks have a romantic relationship, and I know that you spent Friday night at her flat. More than that, honestly, is not mine to know, but one can certainly guess."

Harry let go an audible exhalation. 'I suppose it's not a stretch to go from mooning over the girl to spending the night to _that_, but Merlin, this woman is perceptive,' he thought. Molly continued.

"Arthur and I try to have a chat with each of our boys on this matter – and Ginevra's is not too far off, either – before they head off for Fifth Year. What with the trial and all that rubbish that went on last summer, I didn't have time to talk with you, Harry, so Arthur was going to sit down with you sometime after Ginevra's birthday. However, it seems as though recent events have rendered that discussion a bit moot, wouldn't you think?"

Harry was sitting up straight as an arrow. A chastened "Er, yes Ma'am" was all he could squeak out. Molly was unimpressed.

"Come now, Harry; for goodness sakes. If you'd like to get me to believe that you're mature enough to make choices like this about your life without any adult input, then you can certainly begin by not cowering like a schoolboy when I bring up the subject of sex." Molly toned it down when she saw Harry flinch at her strong words. She did want to impress on the young man the serious nature of what it was he was doing, but on the other hand she didn't want to scare Harry anymore than was necessary. "I simply want to know that you're making good choices for yourself, lad." The tension level left the room as quickly as air leaving a popped balloon, and Molly allowed time for Harry to realize that he wasn't on trial.

"How long has this been going on between you and Tonks now, Harry?"

"Saturday was the first – the only time something like that has happened."

"And you were… careful?"

"Yes, ma'am." Molly seemed satisfied that Harry was a smart enough lad not to wind up on a rather embarrassing potions regimen; or worse, bring a little green-eyed metamorph into the world.

"I'll trust that you can respect your body enough to be careful with it, Harry dear, but if I'm honest, it's the rest of it that has me a bit worried about you. What was with all this moping about we had around here on Saturday and Sunday?" Harry steeled himself. While talking with Bill or his closer friends was something he found helpful in processing what had gone wrong at Tonks's, he wasn't quite sure he would glean the same from a conversation with Molly.

"We, er, had a bit of a row right before I left," he said, and then his look said that there was nothing more he was going to add.

"A row, well, those aren't always bad. In fact, many relationships benefit quite nicely from a bit of tension." Molly looked wistful, almost reminiscing. Then she pulled herself back to the present.

"How long _have_ you and Miss Tonks been romantically involved then, Harry?"

"It's rather difficult to put dates on that, Mrs Weasley. I'm not even quite sure if 'romantically involved' is the right term for whatever we have going on." Molly looked at her charge with a rather puzzled expression.

"What do you mean?"

Harry struggled for an answer. "It's just so… different than anything I've seen at Hogwarts. The kids there are dead serious about it all, you know. They're professing their undying love to each other at the drop of a hat and making a quick path to the br – well, they're, er…"

"Yes, dear. Even after all these years I'm still pretty familiar with Hogwarts courtship. But what is it then between you and Nymphadora? Do you care for the girl? Does she care for you?" Molly was now even more puzzled. She remembered Fourth- and Fifth- Year students bouncing from partner to partner seemingly monthly, but by the time they hit late Sixth Year and early Seventh, most of her class had either paired up for good, or their relationships were developing into more permanent arrangements. And by the time they were Tonks's age, well, the girls in her class destined to be married were either already there or engaged to be. She was getting rather worried about the young Auror's intentions where her Harry was concerned.

"And what should _your_ behavior tell me, then? You show up on Saturday having spent the night at this woman's flat, and quite obviously not in separate bedrooms. You proceed to mope about the house for the balance of that day and most of yesterday… Harry, are you sure this is the kind of relationship you want to give your heart to? Are you sure this is the kind of woman you ought to give your heart to?"

With a bit of distance on the situation, Molly would have realized that this was not the wisest choice of words to say about the girl who caught the affections of a young Gryffindor. For his part, Harry was caught between his innate need to defend the honor of a friend and the woman who provides the only home – outside of Hogwarts – he's ever had. Harry being Harry, though, honor won out.

"Exactly what did you mean by that, Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked. "You've known Tonks for years – tried to set her up with every one of your sons save Ron, she's an Order member, by Merlin, and you're seriously asking if she's 'the right kind of woman? You might want to ask her if some twitchy sixteen-year-old with a compulsive and often fatal 'saving-people thing' is the 'right sort of lad' for her!"

"Easy now, Harry. I know she's a wonderful girl, that's not what I'm saying at all. It's just, well, it all seems quite fast and quite careless from my perspective, you know. How do you know, for instance, that she's the kind of woman you could make a life with, Harry? There are serious things to consider, you know, before you just go hopping into bed with some witch?" Molly was becoming more concerned for Harry's well being as the conversation went on.

"Besides her homemade tortillas, you mean?" Harry replied under his breath.

"Her what?"

"Never mind. Mrs Weasley, I'm not even close to thinking about 'making a life' with anyone. By Godric, I'm only sixteen, as I know you're well aware. This bulls-eye on my forehead doesn't provide me with much of a social life, you see, and these few weeks with Tonks have been, well, they've been some of the most fun I've had in my life."

Harry considered his last statement carefully. Then he became fidgety and anxious for a few seconds until he finally stood up.

"Mrs Weasley, thanks. You've been a terrific help here." He walked over to where she was seated and placed a kiss on her cheek. "I'm heading over to Tonks's before the others get there. Please don't worry, or for Merlin's sake please don't try to stop me. I think I have things figured out. I'll be back tonight, promise." Harry flashed the rather confused Molly a beatific smile. Molly stopped him briefly.

"Harry, wait. Take these." Molly handed Harry a strip of about half a dozen condoms. "Now, while I don't approve of or condone this relationship or how physical it's gotten, having seen Bill and Charlie's teenaged years taught me that there's precious little I can do to stop any of it. All I ask is that you are careful, both with your heart and your body, son. You do know what those are, Harry?" Harry gulped and blushed, but managed to answer.

"Er, yes Mrs Weasley. I'm, er, rather familiar with their usage. I'll, er, just be off now, then." Molly stretched her arms out and enveloped Harry in a tight embrace, which the young man wanted out of as soon as he got into it. He then popped into the floo and headed off to see his Tonks.

When Harry got to the fireplace of Tonks's London flat, the young auror was at her desk catching up on some paperwork. She rushed over to the floo, helped Harry up and held on to him with all her might. His embrace was similarly charged with regret, with apology and with the fervent desire that they not let silly things like emotions come between them again. Harry and Tonks walked over to the couch, still in their embrace, and began to place small kisses on each other's lips. These pecks became more and more lingering, and as Tonks found her fingers winding their way in-between Harry's t-shirt and the waistband of his blue jeans, she also heard him mutter something between kisses that made her sit up straight as an arrow.

"Mrs. Weasley knows."

"Oh!" Tonks exclaimed, quite flustered. "Oh dear. How did that happen? Are you alright? Did she lay into you for hours? Is she coming over here with torches and pitchforks?"

"No, she rather assaulted me with these," Harry replied, and dropped the strip of condoms on the couch while hiding his face in his hand.

"Oh. Well, that's… that's rather sweet of her, I suppose. Just wants to see you're safe and all…" The two shared a hearty laugh over Molly's ham-handedness which became a pleasant segue for returning to their snog. They luxuriated in each other for a good ten minutes before Tonks couldn't stand not talking about the weekend for one more moment.

"Harry… Harry, stop. Get your hand – stop! The others will be here in half an hour. Merlin, what's wrong with you?"

"S'your fault. Earlobes too tasty."

"Harry… Harry! Look, last time we got started like this it ended up very unpleasantly for both of us. I don't want that to happen again, so do you think we can try to figure out what – Harry, I'm trying to be serious for a moment here!" Harry straightened up with a smirk on his face and looked dead at Tonks before replying

"Not really too much to talk about, is there?"

"You can't be serious. You stormed out of here not three minutes after getting your leg over, you have these big long heart-to-heart discussions with Merlin knows who while I'm sitting at mum's convinced I'd stuffed it completely, and now what? I let you cop a cheap feel and all's well that ends well?"

"No, Tonks… hold on. Right. Well, there's nothing to talk about because it isn't even in question. I acted like an idiot – like a blushing schoolboy. We haven't put any names on what we're doing together, and quite honestly I'd rather keep it that way. I just can't help remembering what you said to me before we started all this – that you were bound and determined to help me have a fun summer. Now, moping about over the nature of 'relationships' isn't too terribly fun, is it?"

"No, I suppose not," Tonks answered, warily.

"Unfortunately for Saturday, one of the things in this world I'm best at is bloody moping. Couple that with my rather unfortunate level of experience with girls at all, and you had the makings of a complete fiasco."

"It wasn't too bad before you left, mind," Tonks gave him a wink and a smile.

"No, I don't suppose it was." Harry's tone became markedly less animated and more somber as he continued. "But look, we've no business mucking about with trying to determine the nature of our feelings, love. There's a war on, after all, or there soon will be, and we're pretty much both fated to play a part in it." He looked at Tonks with a decidedly determined smile. "Let's just have some fun while we can, and if we get out of this intact, then we'll worry about titles and labels and things." Tonks seemed unimpressed.

"How's that soliloquy coming, Potter? Almost finished, then?"

"All done, actually. Why?" Tonks leaned over and placed a long, full kiss on the young man's lips.

"Because conversation isn't the first thing on my mind at the moment…"

Harry cut her off at the pass.

"All that and you've nothing to say in response?"

"Not really much to talk about, I suppose," she said with a cheeky grin, doing a fairly decent impression of The Boy She Was Snogging, which got them both chuckling a bit.

"You're right, after all," she continued. "But I really don't want to think about a war right now, not with only fifteen minutes left until the others show up. Now, if I remember correctly, you had your hand right there, and…"

**Author's Note: **Thanks for those who've stuck with this, and I am sorry that it took so long to get an update out. Blame Mollywobbles for that – getting her bit at the beginning right was what took so long.

Welcome to the couple of dozen new folks who've signed up for e-mail alerts – I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Fibinaci, the "homemade tortillas" reference was for you.

Reviews are outrageously gratefully received – good, bad or otherwise. And they'll all be answered.

-Christopher


	11. Chapter 11

An easy routine had settled around the four teenagers and Tonks as August rolled on

Chapter 11:

An easy routine had settled around the four teenagers and Tonks as August rolled on. Tuesdays and Thursdays were three-a-side Quidditch days at the Burrow, with Harry, Ginny and Tonks on one team and Ron, Bill and Fleur on the other. Molly would jump into action occasionally, pairing up with her daughter and Harry if either Bill or Fleur didn't want to play. Hermione was occasionally pressed into referee duty, as much as one could do from the ground, but she preferred to feign watching from the safety of a lawn chair, throwing in the occasional "lovely shot, Ron," when it seemed appropriate. A couple of sunscreen charms, the protection of Bill's _imperturbable_ charm and the company of Bridget Jones's Diary (a novel she deemed "cheap Muggle throwaway tripe, but it serves a purpose") gave Hermione a rather indifferent feminine air while those above her waged frantic combat.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays generally centered on meditation. Tonks would show up around half past one in the afternoon to collect the Trio plus Ginny and head back to her flat for their meditation classes. At this point 'class' wasn't really the order of the day anymore; the four had learned enough about the subject that they could handle things themselves. Still, everyone was happy for the excuse to get out from under the rather stifling apron of Molly Weasley, so no one really talked about no longer needing the formal scheduling.

One Monday's session was a little more eventful than the others. The trio had gone to Diagon Alley the previous Saturday only to find the newly-marked Draco Malfoy doing some 'plotting' that would make most cartoon villains look competent. After a rather ham-handed attempt on Hermione's part at getting information about Draco's doings, the three decided that leaving the counter-terrorism reconnaissance to trained professionals was probably wise, especially when one of their members was actually dating a trained professional. It took a bit of work to shoo Ginny back to the Burrow ahead of them, but Hermione warning her in advance that there was "war business" that they needed to discuss mollified things significantly. Still, it was an awkward segue from meditation to business.

"Er, Tonks. Mind if we have a word before we head back to Ottery?" was the way Harry opened things. The distinct lack of playful cheek in his request was apparent to anyone within earshot.

"Right. Of course, Harry, what's going on?"

"Your cousin's a Death Eater."

"Ha. Right, and in other news, folks: Sky said to be blue all bloody day, 'cept at night and when it rains. Back to you, Ted."

"No, really Tonks. We saw him. He's been flinching when people touch his forearm, and he's skulking around Borgin and Burke's making dodgy deals with the shop-owners. He's really gone and done it, and now he's going to have to prove himself to Volde – get a grip, Ron – to Voldemort."

"Suppose he has, then?" Tonks asked. "What do you expect me to do about it? I mean, I can't just go and arrest someone on what a couple of teenagers think they may or may not have seen while wandering around playing spies, now, can I?" As soon as she said those words, Tonks regretted it. But when it was Hermione who flew off the handle, she knew she was in trouble.

"Tonks, how could you? Honestly! What kind of patronizing rubbish was that, anyway? After all Harry's done for all of us, do you possibly think you could spare him the barest benefit of the doubt here?"

"Hermione, of course I can; and I do. But there's really nothing I can do about it with just your – or even his – say-so."

Harry was agog. Here was his best chance to actually stop the tide of Death Eater activity in Hogwarts – to get to students before Voldemort did – and Tonks was playing bureaucrat?

"Tonks, I'm sorry, but I'm really going to have to do something about this. And if you're not going to help me, I'll find someone who will. Look, I don't want this to turn into some big to-do and come between us, but this could be my life here."

"Aren't you making just a bit much out of this, Harry?" Tonks asked, getting more and more worried as the conversation went on. "Do you really have to start bringing this into my work?" Harry lost it.

"Your work? Your bloody work? For five fucking years now, I've had to dodge someone who's been out to kill me – to kill me, Tonks – every June, like clockwork. And you're asking me if I'm making too much of this? What were your schooldays like, Tonks? I'll tell you what – you find me one time where your life was in imminent danger of ending by murder while you were a schoolgirl, and I'll let you handle this however you see fit. Until then, I'd appreciate it if you'd not tell me how best to protect myself. Send me an owl if you change your mind about this. Meanwhile, goodbye." Harry walked to the floo, shouted "The Burrow" into the fireplace, and headed back home. Ron and Hermione followed shortly thereafter.

Harry wound up not going back to Tonks's place after the blow-up over Draco. The following Wednesday, as Ron, Hermione and Ginny were set to go over there, Harry stayed at the Burrow, claiming he "probably didn't need the lessons anymore." Molly made treacle tart for dessert that night, and Ginny took his shift with the dishes.

The following Thursday, Harry made good on his promise to find someone who would listen to him about Draco; going over Tonks's head to Kingsley Shacklebolt, albeit against the advice of Ron and Hermione, who suggested leaving the matter to Professor Dumbledore. Unfortunately for Harry, Kingsley was about as much help as Tonks had been. No outright laughter, as there had been with Tonks, but the series of platitudes and "Thank you for bringing this to our attention" Harry got was enough to assure him that, once again, he was going to be on his own as he tried to survive another year at Hogwarts.

The Friday before leaving for Hogwarts was occasion for a party. Harry had been made Quidditch captain, and the trio's OWL scores certainly augured a banner year in the Weasley household. Neville and Luna showed up, as did Remus and Hagrid, the twins and Dean. Most of the activity was outside, but Harry was in no mood for a party, and watched the goings-on from the sitting room. Hermione and Ron were tossing a Quaffle back and forth lightly, and Ginny was serving apple cake to the guests. She was wearing a flower-print pencil skirt that Harry hadn't noticed before – he assumed she wore it because she was seeing Dean for the first time in two months – but it did provide a flattering silhouette of her figure, as far as he could –

"Quite an arse on that one, eh?" Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Tonks's voice.

"I – I wasn't. I mean, I"

"S'alright, love. She's fit, there's no denying that. Hell, you never know, I might steal a glance at a bum like that every once in awhile myself." Tonks paused for a moment to let that jibe sink in. Harry stared at her agog, which brought a wide grin over Tonks's face.

"Nah, I don't. But I can go to my grave happily having seen a look like that on you. And that blush, is it contagious, then? Come on, sweets; don't think about it too hard. If you were the first bloke to get those ideas in his randy little head, several major publishing companies would be out of business."

The banter had given Harry some time to collect his thoughts, and as he looked into the violet eyes of his erstwhile companion, he knew he needed to set things right between them before he headed back north for his sixth year.

"So, what are we going to do about your cousin, then?" Harry opened. Tonks sighed resignedly and lowered her head.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you, Harry? Nothing's changed in the last week and a half. Kingsley appreciates your concern, and security is going to be tightened at Hogwarts this year. Unfortunately, that's all we can do." Tonks grabbed Harry's hands gently, which the young man pulled back quickly.

"So, that's it, then? I get to go back to a school where we know Death Eaters are plotting. All this shite this summer about keeping the three of us safe – fat lot of good it does now, what? I could have at least have a normal summer instead of being cooped up here, as long as I still have to go back to Death Eaters taking pot-shots at me."

"Aren't you making this a bit more than it is?" Tonks asked, starting to get annoyed. They had collected an audience by this time, with Ron, Hermione, Remus and Ginny watching carefully to make sure things didn't come to wands.

"Who in the hell do you think Malfoy's coming after then? Dennis bloody Creevey? Look, I try to do the right thing. I see something happening, and I tell someone. Law enforcement. Someone _in_ law enforcement that I believed cared about my well-being. And – " Tonks reared back and slapped Harry clean across his face, skewing his glasses and leaving a stunned look on the boy, and eliciting gasps from the onlookers.

"Don't you _dare_ presume to know what I do or don't care about, Harry Potter. Boy-who-lived or no, you do _not_ get to make those kinds of choices for me. Do you have any idea what I've been through since you brought this up to Kingsley? Every order meeting I have to hear about it from Kingsley, from Snape; and then those _looks_ Molly sends over. Do you know what that's like? I'm going to be hearing this all bloody year up there in Scotland with you lot _just_ so that I could keep an eye on you myself, Potter."

Harry had a cold, steely look in his eye as he retorted

"Don't put yourself out, Tonks. I've done a pretty damned good job of taking care of myself this far, I certainly think I can manage well enough without _you_ up there." Harry turned on his heel and walked upstairs to the twins' room.

Tonks muttered a low "Fucking brilliant," as she saw Ginny race upstairs to his aid. If to make matters worse, as she was trying to collect what remained of her dignity, Hermione intercepted her on the way to the floo.

"We tried to tell him not to press the matter, Tonks. Look, I'm sorry about all this, really I am, but you know how Har-"

"It's okay, sweets; it really is. I don't think we were too much longer for each other, anyway. Just tell Harry that if he wants to hash things out once he's collected himself, I'll be open to that; and if not, I'll just steer clear of him at school. Meanwhile, you take care of that Weasley of yours, what?"

"But, but Ron and I aren't – " Tonks chuckled.

"Of course you're not, Hermione. Of course you're not." And, calling out a subdued "Diagon Alley," Tonks flooed out of the Burrow and away from what was left of the festivities, Remus nearly on her coattails.

**Epilogue: 1 September 1996**

It was Tonks, of course, who found Harry still on the Hogwarts Express long after the last students were supposed to have exited the train. She wasn't looking all that well, but truth be told, he was looking a damned sight the worse for wear. Harry was too beaten by that point to press the issue when it came out that it was Malfoy who put him in that state; he was merely grateful for the rescue. They made some polite small-talk on the way from the station to the castle, and Harry managed to take a bit of the piss when he saw her cast a Patronus to let Order members know that he was alright. Tonks was a bit shocked herself, truth be told, at seeing the silver wolf shimmy out of her wand. It was a start though, and they were able to drop pretense for a moment.

"You look like shite, you know that?" Tonks quipped, the humor in her voice tempered with remorse.

"Right. If I were in any position to defend myself at present, I might mention that mousy brown isn't exactly a good look on you either, sweets." Harry sighed. "But I'm not."

Tonks chuckled softly, then they fell silent for a moment, sizing each other up while looking anywhere but each other's eyes. Harry was able to break the silence.

"You came. Does this mean you're up here for the school year?"

"Sure am, Harry. I'll be hiding in the shadows, though, so there won't be much of a chance to – "

"Right. I know. I wasn't… Well, I mean – "

"Look love, did you really think I'd be meeting you at Honeydukes on Hogsmeade weekends? You're a wonderful man, Harry, and you're going to make some girl very happy someday; but the logistics of the thing right now…" Tonks paused for a moment, carefully considering her words. "Tell you what, love, you find me the moment you're done with Hogwarts, and I'll show you how to test the limits of a good silencing spell." Tonks placed a soft kiss on Harry's pursed mouth and stroked his cheek gently.

"It was a brilliant summer, Tonks," Harry said, smiling after a moment's pause.

"It was, wasn't it?" she replied, returning his smile.

They stood in front of the Hogwarts gate in silence, holding each other's hands and enjoying what they both knew would be Harry's last peaceful moments for quite a while. As Professor Snape appeared on the horizon, fairly floating in malevolent glee towards where they were standing, Harry reached out to Tonks, giving her a warm hug and soft kiss on the cheek. Snape made a sharp wisecrack about Tonks's new Patronus as he dragged Harry towards the opening feast. Harry took one last look behind him at the woman who had saved him a second time.

"_Good night," Harry called to Tonks over his shoulder, as he began the walk up to the school with Snape. "Thanks for … everything."_

Citation: The last lines (the ones in italics) were directly lifted from canon. To be more specific:

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. New York: Scholastic, 2005 (p. 160).

Author's Note: To be perfectly honest, I didn't think I was going to be able to finish it, which is why it's been labeled "complete" for a couple of weeks. But, here it is: a _canonical_ Harry/Tonks story, which is the mysterious thing 'that couldn't be done' referenced in my summary.

The response to this story has been remarkable. As of this writing: 193 reviews, 111 favorites and 231 alerts. "Summer of '96" can be found in 41 different C2 archives, and pages have been hit well over 35,500 times. I can't thank you lovely people enough for that. For someone who writes as a hobby and who started this story on a whim, you've given me an amazing amount of confidence. Now, please let me invite you to read my latest project: The Mercury Chronicles. It's a _very_ different take on Albus, Rose and Scorpius, and may be found either in one-shots or as a compilation (at least until the fanfiction dot net folks wise up to it) on my profile. If you like snarky, overly mature, image conscious pre-teens, then these stories are for you. Happy reading!


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